


My Old Heart

by savvysav



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Game, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvysav/pseuds/savvysav
Summary: Byleth remains in Fhirdiad a year after Edelgard's defeat to avoid assuming the role of Archbishop. Claude surprises his old friends by arriving at Dimitri's coronation as the crowned King of Almyra, though his visit serves another purpose.Claude asks Byleth to help him track down a shadow organization in exchange for learning the mystery behind her crest and her powers. In order to keep their mission a secret they come up with a scheme to explain why they are spending so much time together: an engagement.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan, Hilda Valentine Goneril & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 362
Kudos: 388





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fun fic that I've been playing around with for a while and finally worked up the courage to post. I wanted to do a Blue Lion's route story because I found it interesting that no one really questions Byleth's feelings as she supports Dimitri through the war. I also wanted to explore how Byleth copes with her own emerging feelings and how she works through understanding them.
> 
> Also, I really love Byleth and Claude. Hopefully you do too.

It had been nearly a year since their victory in Enbarr and it still left a hollow feeling in Byleth’s chest. She was glad that many of the former students from the Officer’s Academy joined the revolt against the Empire, including those from other houses, working as hard as she could to ensure their safety. Byleth had hoped to find a way to talk to Edelgard and find another path, turning back the hands of time as many times as she could, but the Adrestian Emperor was nothing if not resolute. Killing Hubert and Edelgard seemed an unfortunate inevitability.

Byleth was wary of Dimitri during their slow return to the capital of Faerghus. Though he seemed to return to himself after Rodrigue’s death, she worried about the tenuousness of his emotional state. Watching over him since her return to Garreg Mach had been an exhausting endeavour. Dimitri was callous, acting out of cruelty, with a complete disregard for anything save his vengeance. Having now achieved it, Byleth wondered if his campaign was truly finished. She desperately hoped he would return to the kindness she saw in him when they first met. 

Dimitri was lucky his former classmates proved to be capable allies against Edelgard. After the war he appointed a number of them to rule their homelands in the former nations of the Alliance and Empire. She was hopeful that a time of peace truly would come to pass, if only because those involved in the war would remember it so acutely. 

Byleth was named the new Archbishop of the Church of Seiros in spite of the fact that no one asked whether she wanted the position. Apparently Rhea’s word was law even after her power waned and the appointment was a foregone conclusion for everyone except Byleth. Byleth was deflecting responsibility for as long as she could. She was focusing on the recovery of the newly unified kingdom of Fódlan and hoping to find a reason to turn down the role of Archbishop. Now that they had reached the eve of Dimitri’s official coronation there was less and less she could do to avoid returning to the monastery.

Byleth leaned against the castle wall, taking a deep breath to steel herself. It was moments like these where she hoped she could be quiet and still enough to hear Sothis’ voice speaking to her, providing guidance or a gentle scolding. Byleth imagined Sothis telling her she should rest, that she had done enough. 

With so much happening during the war Byleth repressed herself further. She was focusing more intently on keeping her students alive and trying to bring Dimitri out of the shadows of his own mind. No one seemed to notice how far Byleth retreated within, building up the walls around her. She battled her new found feelings as best she could, boxing them up and storing them away, ignoring it as one would an old attic or storehouse. 

“Professor—there you are!” Hilda called out in her singsong voice as she approached. “I wondered where you sneaked off to after dinner finished.” 

Byleth straightened up, pulling herself away from the wall. “I came out for some air.”

“A little chilly, don’t you think?” Hilda rubbed her hands over her arms to emphasize her point. 

Byleth shrugged as though she hadn’t felt the cold, when in fact she actively sought it out. Hilda’s eyes narrowed slightly as she ran a hand through her long pink hair. She always was more perceptive than anyone gave her credit for. 

“A messenger sent word ahead that the Almyran delegation is arriving. We’ve been asked to gather in throne room to welcome them and people were wondering where you were.”

Byleth sighed. “Of course.”

Hilda cleared her throat. “Um, Professor? I don’t mean to be rude, but is that what you’re going to wear?” 

Byleth looked between herself and Hilda, realizing that Hilda was wearing a traditionally northern-style gown with a fur wrap while Byleth wore her usual armour. She hoped she would not need it for a while but did not have much else that she could wear. Byleth stared back at Hilda. 

“Yes?” 

“You can’t wear armour. This is the first time an Almyran king has visited us,” Hilda said, holding out her hand to Byleth. “Come on, I’ll let you borrow something.” 

Byleth took Hilda’s hand and let herself be dragged back into the castle and up to the guest quarters. Byleth remained silent which Hilda took as an invitation to gossip about former classmates who were expected to be attending the coronation. 

Many of the former Blue Lions remained in Fhirdiad to support Dimitri’s unification efforts. Felix inherited the position of Duke Fraldarius and Sylvain would inherit Gautier territory after his father died. Ashe inherited the late Lord Lonato’s territory as there were no other heirs. Dedue and Ingrid remained as Dimitri’s liege knights while Mercedes and Annette helped with restoration efforts. 

Others from the Black Eagle and Golden Deer houses went back to their former territories. Those of noble lineage inherited their territories or were promoted under Dimitri’s rule. Those not of noble descent joined in the restoration efforts or sought out new adventures and opportunities. Most of the students were making the journey to the capital for the coronation set to take place the following evening.

“I got a letter from Claude recently,” Hilda continued cheerfully, catching Byleth’s attention. “He said he’s coming to the coronation so hopefully he’ll tell me where he’s been all this time.” 

Byleth remembered the last time she saw Claude, standing with him in the Alliance capital after she and Dimitri rescued it from certain disaster. The Alliance leader held his usual easy smile, eyes betraying the words he spoke so effortlessly. It was the last time Byleth saw him.

“He told me in Derdriu that he was leaving Fódlan.” 

They entered Hilda’s room and Byleth noted the outfits that were piled on the bed. Hilda immediately began rifling through them, holding some up for further scrutiny.  
  
“That Claude is always up to something.” Hilda handed Byleth a beautiful midnight blue gown with a flowing skirt and lace-covered sleeves. “Try this one.” 

Byleth carefully removed her armour before pulling on the gown and asking Hilda to button it for her. The bodice went up to the neck to meet the sleeves while the back was open and left her feeling exposed. Byleth smoothed out the front of the dress as she looked in the mirror, her pulse quickening as she realized she would be left entirely without armour or weapons. 

“Professor you look stunning! It’s like this dress was made for you.” Hilda winked at her in the mirror and Byleth realized she had fallen into a carefully set trap. Claude wasn’t the only schemer in the Golden Deer house.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you Hilda.” 

Byleth reached for her sword belt as Hilda swatted her hand away. “Professor, I will not let you ruin that perfect outfit with a weapon.” 

“What if something happens?” Byleth was mortified.

Hilda rolled her eyes. “We’ll be in a room full of guards. Besides, you know magic don’t you? Now let’s go. We don’t want to be late.” 

Byleth shook her head, following Hilda out of the room as she took one last wistful look at her sword.

***

“You weren’t joking when you said it’d be cold, kiddo.” Nader was rubbing his hands together for warmth as he approached Claude. 

“I think you can stop calling me kiddo, Nader.” 

“Been calling you that all your life. I’m not about to stop now that you’re some fancy-ass king.”

Claude shook his head as he tied down his wyvern. The palace attendants offered to do it for him but Claude was too careful for that. A set of Almyran guards would stand watch over the stables at all times while they were in Fhirdiad. He gave his wyvern a parting stroke on the neck before joining Nader and the retinue of trusted guards attending to him. 

House Blaiddyd’s guards stood waiting for them to enter into the palace proper where they would be greeted by King Dimitri and the nobles assembled there. Claude knew that many of his former classmates would be present. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Hilda’s face.

“Let’s get this party started, shall we?” Claude gestured to the group that assembled around him as they moved to join the palace escort. 

Nader caught Claude by the wrist as they walked, speaking Almyran so that none of the Fódlanders would overhear.

“I’m all for fun and games but you need to take this seriously.”

“You don’t have to remind me Nader.” Claude put on his most charming smile to maintain appearances. 

“Your father is being reasonable and honouring your terms. He wants to see you married.” 

Nader let go of Claude’s arm and let him wave to the commoners gathered near the palace entrance.

“Well he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t,” Claude snapped.

Nader patted Claude on the back. “He’s just looking out for you kiddo.”

“I have things I want to achieve. I don’t want to get off track with this nonsense.” 

In spite of his calm outward appearance his stomach was twisting into knots. When he was a student at the Officer’s Academy no one knew he was half Almyran, let alone a crown prince, but soon the secret would be out. He hoped they wouldn’t treat him differently. He remembered the way the Blue Lions called Dimitri _highness_ no matter how often Dimitri told them not to. 

They approached the large throne room doors and Claude held his breath. “Moment of truth.” 

Claude watched as the doors were drawn open and he was announced to the court. As he stepped into the throne room he saw Dimitri standing on the platform, shock plainly written on his face. Claude noticed that all of the former Blue Lions students were present, as well as a few of the Black Eagles and the Golden Deer. Unfortunately he did not see Lorenz which put a bit of a damper on things. Claude was really hoping to see that smug dastard’s utter disbelief when the king of Almyra walked in.

Claude bowed before Dimitri. “Your majesty, thank you for your kind welcome. I have brought you many gifts from Almyra, as is our custom.” 

Dimitri descended down the steps, extending a hand to Claude as he stood. They grasped each other’s forearm before Dimitri pulled him in for a hug. 

“Claude! I dare say this may be your greatest scheme yet.”

“I’m glad I didn’t disappoint,” he said with a wink.

Claude noted how calm Dimitri appeared, smiling kindly at him as he had when they were students. Everyone heard the rumours throughout the war of Dimitri’s fury; stories were told of a single man tearing through groups of Imperial troops without remorse. Claude wondered if that rage had dissipated now that Edelgard was dead or if it remained lurking beneath the surface. 

Claude flashed Dimitri a smile as he surveyed the room for the one person he truly came to see, though he could not find her among the crowd. He hoped his intel was correct and she had not yet returned to the monastery. 

“Claude!” Hilda shouted as she collided into him, giving him a big hug. “I can’t believe you never told me you were a prince. I thought we were best friends.” 

Hilda gave him her best pout, which only made him hug her again. In truth Hilda was his closest friend—an unlikely one given her lineage as a Goneril, the family who fought with the Almyran forces along the border. Claude hoped that together they would be able to change things.

“It’s great to see you too, Hilda.” 

She gave him a pointed look. “What are you doing here?” 

Claude stretched and put his hands behind his head. “Can’t I just visit an old friend for his coronation?” 

“You’re never _just_ doing anything. But fine, keep your secrets. The professor’s here to keep you in line,” Hilda grinned. 

Claude tried to keep his tone indifferent even as his heart beat a bit faster. This was the one person he needed to see. “Where is dear old Teach?” 

Claude did not intend to fulfill his father’s wishes and come home with a bride, but it was a good excuse to take some time away in Fódlan without too many questions. Claude was here to solve a mystery. One which he held onto the pieces of for years before finally getting information that might be the key to the puzzle.

A few weeks after Edelgard’s demise Claude received a messenger in Almyra carrying a letter addressed to him from none other than Hubert, the Emperor’s closest friend and retainer. Claude was surprised at how candid it was; obviously written with the intention that it be a posthumous letter. It referred to a group of people ominously called _Those Who Slither in the Dark_ , stating that their leader, Thales, was killed in Derdriu while disguised as Lord Arundel but that there were others who were still very much alive. 

Hubert’s letter said that Solon, who had been known as Tomas the librarian at Garreg Mach, had been part of this group. That piece of information alone was enough to catch Claude’s attention as the librarian had given him all sorts of contraband books when Claude was a student. Many of them related to the mystery of Crests and Relics, something that Claude had not yet been able to solve. He hoped that Byleth would be intrigued enough by her ability to wield the Sword of the Creator that she would join him in the search for this shadow group. 

“Hi Claude.”

He turned to see Byleth standing behind him dressed in a beautiful midnight blue gown, the lace bodice threaded with silver that sparkled in the light of the ballroom. She looked absolutely stunning, reminding him of the way the stars brightened the night sky. Hilda’s fingerprints were all over this.

“Hey Teach,” Claude said calmly, hoping she hadn’t caught him staring. He reached out, bending forward to kiss her hand. “You’re looking lovely as ever.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the gesture. “Thank you, your majesty.” 

Claude laughed, brushing off the formality. “Now Teach, if you start doing that I’ll have to call you your grace.”

He caught the way her face fell at the use of her title and filed that information away for later. Byleth seemed less than thrilled at the appointment to Archbishop if he was reading her correctly, though it seemed too easy. He remembered her as stoic and aloof, nearly void of emotion, when she taught at the monastery years ago. Perhaps something had changed. Claude would try to see if Hilda could provide more information later. 

Claude felt an arm wrapping around his shoulder as Raphael pulled him and Byleth together in a tight hug. “We got almost the whole class back together again.”

Claude held his tongue before he could retort that Byleth had never been his professor and most of the Golden Deer left him to join her class instead. The flash of jealousy served no purpose and he quickly hid it away. Claude wiggled out of the hug, leaving Byleth to fend for herself. She let out a squeak as Raphael picked her up off the ground, looking at Claude over Raphael’s shoulder and searching his face with keen eyes. Claude quickly turned to greet the other students he hadn’t spoken to if only to escape her gaze. 

“My friends it is getting late and we will have plenty of time to catch up tomorrow. Let’s all have breakfast together in the morning,” Dimitri called over the group. “Please enjoy our hospitality and let my staff know if there is anything you require.” 

The group made little effort to disperse, still caught up in reminiscing and reconnecting with one another. Dimitri found Claude and told him that he would be escorted to his guest suite, the finest that the Kingdom’s palace offered. They would meet the day after the coronation to discuss potential treaties and trade routes, but for now that could wait. Dimitri gestured for Claude to join him as he retreated from the throne room. 

“Goodnight everyone.” Dimitri bowed to the group as Claude waved.

He noticed Byleth’s eyes still following him and he winked at her. “Save me a dance tomorrow Teach.”

***

Byleth always wondered if Claude held it against her for not choosing to be the professor of the Golden Deer. The charming facade she noticed when she first met him never faded during their time at the Garreg Mach and, despite her best attempts, she never spent enough time with Claude to have the opportunity to see beyond it. 

When she started teaching he did his best to engage in civil conversation with her, and they once had tea on his birthday, but Claude maintained his distance. This grew more obvious when students from the Golden Deer house began asking Byleth if they could transfer to her class. In truth she had not chosen the Golden Deer because she felt that Claude was more than capable of leading whereas she saw something dangerous in Dimitri from the very beginning. Byleth wanted the opportunity to observe Dimitri to assess her intuition about the darkness she sensed inside him. At the time it seemed Blue Lions needed her more than the other houses. 

Byleth remained in the throne room for a few moments after Dimitri and Claude left before taking the opportunity to sneak out herself. She was glad to see so many of the students reunited but quickly felt overwhelmed by their excitement. The unease Byleth felt during the war had not left her; she was often on edge, expecting the peace they fought so hard for to be tenuous and temporary. Seteth’s letters continuously urged her to return to the monastery to take up the position Rhea entrusted to her, yet Byleth could not ignore the strange feeling the church was partly responsible for the turmoil. She wondered if it was possible to reform some of its practices or if Rhea was simply waiting to regain her strength to reclaim the position. 

Byleth noticed the door to her room was unlatched though not completely ajar. She huffed in frustration, noting the impracticality of ballroom dresses, as she prepared a fire spell. She shoved the door open to catch anyone behind it off guard as she stepped into the room. 

“It’s just me, Teach!” 

Claude was leaning against the wall beside her window casually, hands raised in surrender. He was wearing a trademark smile meant to dazzle and distract, but Byleth saw past it.

Byleth closed the door behind her as she snuffed out the spell. She rounded on Claude quickly, pulse pounding from adrenaline. The momentary fear she felt was dizzying—this new degree of feeling was something her body and brain were still trying to reconcile. 

“What could the King of Almyra want from me?” Her voice was sharper than intended and she tried to reign it in. 

“My secret is out.” Claude laughed easily, a well-practised deflection. Then, more earnestly, he said, “Though I suspect that you always had an inkling about me.”

Byleth smirked, crossing the room to sit on the edge of her desk. She and her father encountered many Almyrans, both friend and foe. “The braid was a dead giveaway. Though I hardly could have predicted you were a prince.” 

Claude’s eyes fixed on her with the smallest hint of a spark. “I couldn’t bear to part with it before I was supposed to. I didn’t think many Fódlanders would know any better. I always wondered how Cyril never caught on but I suppose he was young when he left Almyra.”

Byleth nodded, unsure what else to say. She could see Claude assessing her, considering carefully what he might say next. They called him the Master Tactician during the war, clever and calculating, and Byleth wondered if that was who he was under everything else. She had been intrigued by him from the moment they met, a feeling she was never able to shake. Claude always kept his distance in spite of watching her carefully, the two of them dancing around one another without any reason to engage.

“Why didn’t you join my class?” Byleth blurted out, surprising herself. 

Claude’s head tilted ever so slightly, noting his own mild shock at her forthrightness. 

“There’s was no switching houses for me Teach, even if I was tempted.” Claude smiled easily, stretching his arms up to lock his hands behind his head. 

Byleth frowned as she considered what he said. She supposed it was an easy answer yet it seemed odd that the monastery organized houses by region, a system which undoubtedly reinforced national identities and rivalries. _Meant to maintain a carefully constructed order,_ she thought with unease. 

Claude studied Byleth’s face with curiosity. “Don’t tell me you’re heartbroken over not having me in your class.” 

Byleth shook her head. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for students to attend classes based on their talents and interests? What if another teacher is better suited to them than their own? They should have opportunities to learn with them outside of infrequent seminars.” 

Claude held a smile though Byleth noticed a flicker of something cross his face as she spoke, disappearing quickly behind his careful mask. 

“That’s a pretty radical thought, Teach.”

She went quiet, fidgeting with the sleeve of her dress. This was a strange conversation. “Why are you here Claude?”

“Almyra intends to establish trade routes with Fódlan. The first trade agreement between our countries.” 

Another practised response. Byleth sighed with impatience. “Why would a king come himself? It’s dangerous and you’d need to leave someone in charge in your absence.” 

Claude pushed himself forward from the wall as he squared off with her. His smile was faltering. 

“I have a personal relationship with the King of Fódlan as well as many of the new nobles. Coming here myself demonstrates the importance of this relationship.” 

Nearly a full truth. Byleth stared up at him, realizing how tall he had grown in her absence. Claude inherited the title of Duke and the governance of the Leicester Alliance after his grandfather passed, and his time during the war was spent maintaining a careful neutrality between the Empire and the Kingdom. During the war she had seen him only a couple of times and they had never been as close as they were now.

“Then why are you sneaking into my room to talk to me?” 

Claude’s smile fell as he ran a hand through his hair. He stared down at her with purpose before removing his glove and holding his hand out to her. 

“I’ll make you a deal Teach. An answer for an answer. I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.”

Byleth considers his outstretched hand carefully, noting that this is the longest conversation she could remember having with Claude. She is not sure what he could ask that she would not be able to answer truthfully. It seems harmless, though she knows that Claude does nothing without intent. 

She takes his hand firmly in her own, surprised by its warmth. Byleth stares up a Claude with purpose. “Ask.”

“Do you want to be Archbishop?” 

A question she did not expect; the one thing no one has thought to ask. Byleth considers lying, though her intuition tells her that Claude would catch her out. He has always been good at obscuring truths yet prides himself on not being a liar. She trusts that her honesty will be matched by his own. She holds onto his hand as if it is a condition of their promise, as though it guarantees honesty. 

“My appointment was at Rhea’s request. I never asked for this,” she answers firmly.

She feels relief as Claude’s hand squeezes her own in response. “So, why are you here Claude?” 

“I need a favour. I think you’re the only person that can help.” He says it clearly and directly with no illusion of a smile. “Rhea and the church have secrets. I always suspected there were things going on behind the scenes but Hubert sent me a letter that confirmed it. I’m here to find answers that I hope you want as much as I do.”

Byleth’s mind spins as Claude speaks, thinking back to the entries in her father’s diary and his warning about Rhea. Byleth trusts Claude’s answer, knowing that he’s putting everything on the line to tell her. 

“I’ll help you.” 

Claude fails to hide his surprise as he asks Byleth if she’s sure about her offer. She nods an affirmative and he pulls their clasped hands to his chest with a thank you. Byleth is close enough to notice that Claude smells of pine and she blushes at the thought of someone finding them like this in her room. He must notice their closeness, though he seems unaffected by it.

“What now?” she asks quietly.

“I really do have trade routes to negotiate.” Claude gives a warm laugh. “The plan is to stay in Fhirdiad for a few days and then I have a scheme to cover the rest.” 

He winks at her and Byleth shakes her head, wondering what this scheme could possibly entail. Claude lets go of their hands and steps toward the door before looking back at her with a brilliant smile. 

“And I was serious about that dance.” 

***

Breakfast was a delightfully informal and raucous affair. Dimitri had the good sense to order it to his private dining room where many former students crowded together as they laughed and caught up with one another. Raphael and Caspar were already having an arm wrestling match by the time Claude joined the group, trying to remain inconspicuous as he sank down next to Hilda.

“I smell an impending proposal.” Hilda gestures to the head of the table where Marianne sits, blushing fervently, as Dimitri whispered in her ear. 

Claude smiles in spite of himself. He was always fond of kindly Marianne who likely empathized with the darkness Dimitri saw within himself. 

“It’s a good match. Margrave Edmund is smart and manages his territory well. The former crown prince of Faerghus marrying a former Alliance noble would go a long way to demonstrate how committed Dimitri is to the newly minted Kingdom of Fódlan.” 

Hilda makes a show of rolling her eyes at him. “Of course you’d see it like that. I think it’s sweet.” 

Claude sips his tea halfheartedly in response, which Hilda takes as an opportunity to push his buttons. She leans over conspiratorially before she speaks.

“What about you Claude? Everyone knows that a single man with a title is looking for a wife. Especially kings.” 

Claude smiles back, not wanting to let Hilda know how close she might be to the truth. “You’re still single, right? How do you feel about being a queen?” 

“You’re a tease,” she says as she smacks him on the shoulder. He laughs, happy he can still fluster her. 

Hilda was the first real friend Claude had ever made. Growing up in Almyra with a mother from Fódlan never inspired much kindness from others, and connections to the crown inspired even less. The majority of people that attempted to befriend Claude were also trying to kill him, so he never put much stock in the idea of friendship. When he entered the academy Hilda singled him out nearly immediately as her partner in crime, assuming the role of Claude’s best friend as if it was always intended for her.

“Honestly though, no one’s managed to catch your discerning eye?”

“I haven’t had the time,” Hilda whined. “I’ve been doing lots of things in the territory at Holst’s request. Something about wanting me to take on more responsibilities for our house.” 

“What about our dear friend Lorenz? I missed him yesterday.” Claude stirs his tea with practised nonchalance. 

“Sorry he missed your grand entrance,” Hilda giggles knowingly. “Things have been busy since he took over for his father. He plans to be here for the coronation ceremony, of course.”

When they had been students together at the monastery Lorenz was absolutely ridiculous, especially when it came to flirting with girls. Hilda had been the unfortunate recipient of it numerous times. The war had seen Lorenz grow up considerably; even Claude could admit. 

The new Count Gloucester appeared in the dining room moments later as if he knew they were discussing him, strutting in through the doors and making a beeline for Dimitri. 

“Your majesty, my sincere apologies for my tardiness. There was a territorial dispute that absolutely could not wait,” Lorenz said, bowing. 

“Of course,” Dimitri responded politely. “Please join us.”

Lorenz went around the table to say hello to everyone before setting his eyes on the empty seat beside Claude. Lorenz squeezed Hilda’s shoulder before sitting down at the table beside Claude and offering him a warm handshake. 

Claude was glad Lorenz made it through the war, though it was a close call. Lorenz had quite stubbornly supported his father, the former Count Gloucester, in his allegiance to the Empire. The Kingdom forces, led by the Professor, subdued them in a battle for the Bridge of Myrrdin. Claude was informed by his spies that Lorenz defected from the Empire and joined the Professor’s cause after she refused to strike him down. Byleth succeeded with Lorenz where Claude had not, in that seemingly oblivious way that she was always doing impossible things.

“It’s good to see you Claude,” Lorenz smiles. “How have you been occupying your time after renouncing your title? I noticed you never sent a single letter to me.” 

Claude grins, noting that no one seems to have told Lorenz the news. “Oh I’ve been travelling. East, mostly. Spent a bit of time in Almyra.” 

Lorenz pours himself some tea from the pot, adding milk and sugar as he continues. “Almyra? Very interesting. I heard their king was attending the coronation this eve. Have you seen him? I wonder if he’s as brutish as his countrymen.” 

Hilda clears her throat loudly on the other side of Claude, who leans over on the table in front of her to block Lorenz’s view. Claude intends to relish in this moment as long as he can. 

“You know I found the Almyrans to be good people, if not a bit misunderstood by Fódlan.”

Lorenz stirs his tea carefully without touching the sides of the cup, all pomp and circumstance. “Well perhaps we can ask their king to stop raiding the border. A small bit of diplomacy would go a long way.”

“You know these biscuits are just divine.” Hilda tries, and fails, to interrupt Lorenz as he digs himself a deeper hole.

“I mean it really is quite wasteful. I can’t believe they have enough soldiers to send them to fight us without reason over and over again.” Lorenz says before he takes a careful sip of tea.

“You know,” Claude smirks, “I think the king would be amenable to your suggestions. He’s new to the throne and he wants to make some positive change.” 

Claude watches as Lorenz sets his cup down, fitting it into the saucer with precision. He can practically feel Lorenz’s excitement at the thought of interacting with two monarchs in the span of one evening. 

“Claude, you speak as though you have met him.” 

Hilda sighs beside Claude and he can tell she’s shaking her head. She’s given up trying to save Lorenz from himself. 

“I’m pleased to tell you that he’s here in Fhirdiad my friend.” 

“What? Where?” Lorenz snaps, his noble disposition offended at the thought that he had not properly introduced himself to someone.

“Sitting at this table,” Claude presses. 

Lorenz scoffs. “Now is not the time for your riddles, Claude.”

“ _Technically it’s Khalid, son of Darius, King of Kings, crowned of Almyra_.” Claude lets his first language roll off his tongue, watching as the colour drains from Lorenz’s face. This was the reaction he was waiting for, adoring every moment of his friend’s absolute shock. 

“You,” Lorenz practically spits.

“Me.” Claude smiles widely. “I’ve never lied about being an outsider. I am a von Riegan and a Fódlaner on my mother’s side. Almyran on my father’s.” 

“I do not understand.” Lorenz stutters. 

“My mother left Fódlan to marry the love of her life, who happened to be Almyran.”

Lorenz awkwardly straightens his jacket as he avoids looking at Claude. The pieces were falling into place. “A man who happened to be the Almyran king?”

Claude laughs in return. “Well, when they met he was just an adventurous prince. We don’t inherit the throne in Almyra. You need to prove worthy of it. But yeah, by the time I came along he was king.” 

Lorenz clears his throat before pushing his chair back and standing to bow before Claude. “My sincere and humble apologies your majesty. Please forgive my horrendous indiscretion.” 

Claude laughs harder as he pats Lorenz on the back. 

“It’s just Claude to you my friend. And your suggestions aren’t far off from my own thinking. In fact, I’m hoping to negotiate some trade agreements while I’m here.” 

Lorenz brightens at the comment, immediately diving into further conversation about the restoration efforts of farmland in the former Alliance territories, strategically placed for direct trade through Fódlan’s throat. Claude revels in the politics, glad to see that Lorenz’s enthusiasm has not waned. He always kept Claude sharp when they were both a part of the Alliance’s governing houses. 

“You two are weird,” Hilda comments over Claude’s shoulder before standing up from the table and stretching. 

“Leaving so soon Hil?” 

“Of course. There’s a ball to prepare for.”


	2. Chapter 2

Byleth considers her escape route. Leaving would be the easy part. The coronation ceremony and the accompanying celebration would provide the perfect cover: she would be present long enough to be noticed at the party before sneaking away in the middle of the night while everyone is distracted by drinking and dancing. She could navigate through the castle and Fhirdiad easily enough to make it to the outskirts before her absence was even noticed. Resources weren’t a concern; she had more than enough coin to survive before she would need to start taking on work. The problem, as always, was where she would go. 

The world felt empty without her father in it. Sothis’ awakening within Byleth let loose a flood of once numb sensations that too easily overwhelmed her. She had never had to deal with being so acutely aware of her feelings before. Byleth collected and catalogued them throughout the course of the war, storing them away for later examination. _Sadness, rage, loss, fear._ She imagined them sitting in rows of neat little boxes high up on a shelf that was difficult to reach. 

Her students, who she had so diligently worked to protect, were safe now. They returned to their own territories and began living their lives as they were meant to, something which gave Byleth a swell of pride. They wrote to her and requested visits or took tea with her when they came to Fhirdiad, each caring for her in their own way, but she continued to keep them at arms length. 

It was hard to be near them having witnessed so many of their deaths and gruesome injuries, experiencing the flood of emotion that came with each loss even as she rewound time to prevent them. Byleth used her abilities to ensure her students’ safety and often took the hits herself, the only evidence of their occurrence the scars mapped across her body like constellations. Better her than them, and no one would ever find out. 

Byleth slid her packed bag back under the bed. The Sword of the Creator stood pulsing on its stand in her room. Byleth was loath to take it with her, resenting it nearly as much as her position in the church, yet she knew it could not be left unattended. She hoped that Claude’s newest mystery would deliver on his promise to unearth the truth about what she was. She had slowly pieced a few things together over the years but there were still far too many gaps. She knew that the only person who would be able to tell her everything was Rhea herself.

A set of white Archbishop’s robes were neatly laid out on Byleth’s bed with all of the accompanying adornments, making her shiver at the thought of putting them on. She wondered what sort of consequences there might be to showing up to the coronation in her usual armour but quickly let the idea go—she could easily imagine the scolding she would get from Seteth. So long as she had an acceptable alternative there would be little that he could say.

Byleth took a deep breath before leaving her room and walking down the hall to Hilda’s. She could hear the laughter emanating from the room and when she knocked on the door Mercedes opened it with a cheerful smile. The room was full of activity with clothes, makeup, and accessories spread over every available surface. 

“You’re here!” Hilda squealed when she noticed Byleth.

“I was hoping I could borrow a dress again.”

Hilda’s face lit up. “I have just the thing.” 

  
  
The coronation passed by slowly and without issue. Byleth was required to stand next to the throne for the duration, which she managed to do without looking too uncomfortable. Blessing the crown and placing it on Dimitri’s head was a more difficult task. Byleth was not concerned about his ability to be king; his friends and advisors would see that he was well supported. Byleth’s own actions had determined this path. What she struggled with most was the fact that this was her first visible public action as Archbishop.

Dimitri bowed before Byleth as she rested the crown on his head to officially declare him as his Royal Majesty Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, King of Fódlan.

Byleth was glad she asked Hilda for a dress, foregoing the white robes in favour of the stormy grey ballgown she was given. The layers of tulle fell to the floor, settling around her, and the bodice was covered in embroidered lace flowers. Hilda noted with pride that the gown was of her own design. 

Byleth was seated next to the newly crowned king during dinner. they spoke very little to one another as guests and well-wishers approached to swear their loyalty or offer congratulations. Byleth did not mind, knowing that an awkward tension still hung between them. She suffered too much of Dimitri’s wrath during the war to feel entirely comfortable with him. Although he seemed to be in a stable state it was not easy for her to forget his previous behaviour.

Claude was seated to the left of Dimitri as the highest ranking guest in attendance. He chatted amicably with Dimitri and Felix, who was seated on his other side. Byleth sat in silence as she ate despite the attempts of the noble seated next to her, whom she dutifully nodded at when he spoke.

Finally the horns played out to signal the start of the dancing. Dimitri stepped back from the table and the guests rose to their feet. He approached Marianne for the first dance—which was no surprise to his former classmates—and murmurs immediately rippled through the audience. 

Byleth stood watching them with rapt attention, noting her opportunity to make a quick exit when the dance floor opened for guests. She weaved carefully through the crowd and was nearly to the serving door when a warm voice called out to her.

“You owe me a dance, Teach.” 

Byleth huffed in frustration at being caught before turning around to find Claude flashing her one of his patented smiles.

“I’m happy to let my former students have all the fun.” She attempts to wave him off as she takes a step back toward the door but he knows she’s deflecting.

“Seems like such a shame to wear such a beautiful dress and not show it off a little.” Claude winks at her as he says it, no doubt meant to charm her. It was a habit she noticed when he was a student at the academy. 

Byleth flushes, feeling self-conscious. She knows her position comes with too much renown. People are always watching her, cataloguing her decisions and behaviour to dissect later. She hardly needs to make anyone more aware of her presence.

Claude, sensing her hesitation, moves in closer and extends his hand as he bows to her. “I’m not going to pull you onto the floor, Teach. I’m asking for one dance and then I’ll help you escape. Promise.” 

“One dance,” Byleth says, admitting defeat by slipping her hand into Claude’s gloved one, the leather soft with wear. 

Claude is dressed in finery befitting his station with a gold crown resting on his head, and Byleth hopes she is not overstepping by dancing with the Almyran king before the one she just crowned.

Claude leads her to the centre of the floor with numerous other couples taking their positions and preparing for the music to begin. Byleth has never had much experience with dances but she knows enough to follow Claude’s lead. They begin easily enough, settling into the steps of a slow, easy waltz. Byleth is amazed by Claude’s ability to work around her flowing skirt, momentarily distracted by watching his feet.

“Do you remember the first time we danced together, Teach?” 

Her eyes wander back to his as she remembers the ball at the Offer’s Academy years ago when a younger Claude unceremoniously dragged her to the middle of the dance floor. 

“That was the only time we’ve danced together.” 

“We’re dancing together now, so that makes it the first time we danced.”

Byleth’s lips quirk up in the smallest of smiles as the memory of it floats back to her. “I wasn’t very good.”

Claude chuckles at that, probably thinking about the numerous times she stepped on his toes. “We made it through alright.” 

They are quiet for a few moments as they move with the music, Claude expertly guiding them through the steps. His face betrays none of his thoughts and Byleth realizes she knows very little of the man living beneath this mask. Claude has a certain charisma that draws people to him and Byleth could never quite determine whether it was intentional. She lets herself wonder for the briefest moment what it might have been like between them if she had chosen to lead Claude’s house instead of Dimitri’s. 

As though reading her thoughts, Claude pulls her in close to whisper in her ear, brushing his cheek against her own. “The Officer’s Academy feels like a lifetime ago.”

Claude always acts with purpose, no doubt trying to give the audience the impression that he and the new Archbishop are closer than most suspect; a signal to allies and enemies alike. Byleth is not naive enough to think he is speaking in earnest and yet she cannot help replying in kind.

“It was,” she whispers back sadly.

Perhaps it is her melancholy tone that makes Claude pull back, looking at her with a sharpness in his eyes that tells her he’s searching carefully. They are standing closer to one another than what is appropriate for their stations but Byleth never cared much for propriety. She stares back at him defiantly, looking for the smallest flicker of anything she can see in his eyes. After a few moments he looks away and they finish their dance in silence. 

They walk off the dance floor together and Byleth glances toward the exit. 

“You’re free to go Teach. I always hold up my end of a bargain.” 

His tone is flat, smile dull, and something about it makes Byleth hesitate, curious. He hasn’t yet told her about his scheme.

“Have tea with me,” she says as he turns, catching him just before he walks away. “Tomorrow, I mean. Let’s have tea.” 

There’s a ghost of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Come by my suite in the morning. The rest of the day is pretty busy.”

Byleth nods before quietly slipping out the serving door. She makes it through the maze of hallways and back to the guest wing with relative ease, encountering no one aside from castle staff. 

The moment she is back in her room she locks the door and leans her back against it, sliding down to the floor as her dress pools around her. She sighs as she catches a glimpse of her bag under the bed, realizing her escape will have to wait. 

***

There is a part of Claude that revels in these sorts of affairs, adoring the drama of it all, as loath as he is to admit it. He spends most of the ball dancing and charming the Fódlan nobles, particularly those strategically placed along his future trade routes. He carries the same drink around for most of the night, appearing to drink more than he has while ensuring that no one attempts to poison him. He’s grown bored by the time Sylvain catches him by the arm to pull Claude toward the guest wing with one hand while holding a bottle in the other. 

When they arrive at Sylvain’s room they find a small gathering of old friends laughing, drinking, and gossiping just as they had done when they were students. Leonie jokingly shouts _Your Majesty_ as Claude comes in, raising her mug in the air while Lorenz mouth falls open beside her, mortified. Claude gives a silly curtsy to the room before sitting down next to Hilda, who immediately hands him a bottle of wine. 

“I opened it myself,” she says, catching Claude’s skeptical look. She knows him too well. He nods to her before taking a long drink. 

Time passes easily as friends wander in and out of the room. It makes Claude realize how much he’s missed them and how disconnected he’s been over the past year. He’s always been split between his two worlds, passing through each without any true sense of belonging. 

There’s a flash of jealousy as Claude thinks about the years he spent in Derdriu working to keep the Alliance from tearing itself apart, wishing he could find the professor and convince her to help him. He searched for her, keeping spies near the monastery with the hope he would find her first and this time she would choose him instead of Dimitri. Claude realized later how foolish those thoughts had been, as if things could have turned out any other way. Fate was a fickle thing. 

Hilda must notice the shift in Claude’s mood as she nudges him with her shoulder. “Walk me back to my room?”

He stands up and gives her a mock bow before extending his arm for her. Hilda rolls her eyes but takes his arm in hers anyway, waving goodbye to the few remaining friends. Claude is silent as they walk back through the halls and Hilda gently prods him. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, Hil.” 

“Bullshit.”

Claude laughs in spite of himself. He’d never been able to hold out on her for long. She is one of the most loyal people he has ever met, even going so far as to stay in Derdriu with him until Dimitri and the professor saved them from the Empire’s siege. After the city was saved Claude chose to go back to Almyra and Hilda travelled to Garreg Mach to finish out the war. She could have left at any time but she waited for him to go first. He had never had any siblings but he imagines if he had a sister, they would be Hilda.

She patiently waits for more, knowing her silence will eventually encourage him to speak.

He chooses to deflect instead. “When did Teach get so expressive?” 

He feels Hilda squeeze his arm with a sigh. “She seems like the same old professor to me. As hard to read as ever. I guess she smiles sometimes, which is new. Sometimes she looks kinda sad too.”

Claude hums in response, hoping Hilda will let the conversation die as he drops her off at her door. Unfortunately he knows her better than that too. 

“I know you’re scheming. You’re _always_ scheming.” She stands in the doorway of her room and crosses her arms. “I can help, you know.”

Claude feels fairly confident about his plan but he knows that the professor is a variable he can’t fully predict no matter how much he wishes that wasn’t the case. Hilda moves to usher Claude into her room with a wave of her hand and he steps inside. 

He hands over the letter from Hubert and watches as she reads it. She asks a few questions about how Claude ended up with the letter and whether the information is reliable. He tells her as much as he knows before explaining his plan to gather more information before seeking out this shadow group. He even goes so far as to tell her that he hopes the professor will help him, though he doesn’t explain that he needs her to get access to the monastery and to Rhea—wherever she might be hiding.

Hilda considers the information before offering her insight. “So you want to go after these creeps? That’s the whole reason you’re here?” 

Claude nods. “Pretty much. Trade agreements are a bonus. My father thinks I’m here to find a wife.” 

“And you really think the Almyran king doing a diplomatic tour of Fódlan with the Archbishop is going to work?” 

Claude tries to follow where Hilda is going with this line of questioning, choosing to play along. “People love her. It should get me access to wherever I need to go.”

Hilda thinks it over for a few moments. “Is Dimitri going on this tour?” 

Claude shakes his head. He had considered it but Dimitri was too much of a variable. He didn’t know if Dimitri would have any motivation to go after this group or if he would even believe Hubert’s letter. Fódlan was Dimitri’s kingdom and Claude did not know if he’d take kindly to a neighbouring monarch investigating it. Claude wouldn’t if their roles were reversed. 

“It seems strange to do a diplomatic tour of Fódlan without the king of Fódlan. Especially for the king of Almyra. There’s a lot of history there,” Hilda says carefully. “It was bad enough people saw you and the Archbishop dancing so closely tonight.” 

Claude can’t help but smirk as he watches Hilda poke holes in his plan, thinking back to the many times they’ve done this before. He realizes how much he’s missed having someone to scheme with. After a few more moments of thought Hilda gives him a too-sweet smile, the kind she uses when she’s going to try and convince him to do her a favour. 

“Uh-uh, Hil. Whatever you’re thinking, I can already tell the answer is no.” 

She retaliates with her best pout and—even though he knows exactly what she’s doing—it only takes a few moments before he relents. 

“Fine, let’s hear it. No promises though.” 

Hilda practically beams, jumping up from the bed and standing as though she were about to address a crowd. 

“You need to be able to travel through the country with access to multiple territories and historic records. You don’t want anyone to be suspicious about why the Almyran king is visiting or getting so close to the Archbishop,” she reiterates, counting things off on her fingers.

“Hence the tour,” Claude interjects. He’s already considered all of these things. 

“Right, but what if it wasn’t a diplomatic tour?” 

“Is there another kind of tour?” 

“There’s only one I can think of that won’t make anybody suspicious, so long as you’re a good actor.” 

Hilda’s smirk is concerning and Claude hates it when she’s a step ahead of him. He raises an eyebrow at her so that she will continue. 

“Everybody loves a wedding.”

“Absolutely not,” he laughs. “That’s absurd.”

“You’ll be able to go anywhere you want and nobles will be begging you to visit. Plus it could appease your father if you need to stay here a little longer. All you have to do is fake an engagement. It’s not like you actually have to get married.” 

Claude tries to remove himself from the equation to look at the situation rationally. Now that he is known as the king of Almyra no one will care about his Alliance blood; he is an enough of an outsider that it does not matter. A proposed marriage to someone like the Archbishop would legitimize him in the eyes of most Fódlanders, who would likely see it is a political arrangement. Claude would be travelling with his fiancee instead of being an intruding dignitary and it would get them entry to nearly anywhere they wanted to go. Any noble would jump at the opportunity to host the couple. There was only one catch.

“Teach will never go for it, Hilda.” 

Hilda shrugs off the concern. “I guess it depends how badly she wants answers. You said she agreed to help you.” 

“She hasn’t heard the scheme.” Claude paces around the room in a circle. “Even if she does agree, we’ve barely spent time together aside from the Officers Academy. She wasn’t even the professor for my class. If it’s an arranged marriage we’d have a contractual obligation to go through with it. People will need to think we’ve fallen in love. No one will buy it.” 

“They will if you sell it right,” Hilda says in her singsong voice. “We have to make up a good backstory. People will believe anything if it’s romantic enough.” 

“We?” 

“You obviously can’t do this without me. I can help you talk to the professor tomorrow.”

Claude shakes his head. “Let me talk to her. I owe her that much.” 

Hilda squeals in delight before prattling on about star crossed lovers separated by war and Claude shakes his head with a laugh. He lets her continue until she’s exhausted herself before having her swear to keep the secret. Claude sees the first glow of sunrise on the horizon and excuses himself from Hilda’s room before any other rumours have reason to spread. 

Claude feels nervous as he waits for the professor to arrive for tea later that morning. It’s not as though he’s genuinely proposing and yet he finds himself wondering how she’ll respond. Claude has never intended to marry. It never factored into his plans and the pressure from his father makes it feel more uncomfortable. Claude would be more than happy to let his uncles and cousins fight for the throne after he’s gone, though his father firmly wishes otherwise.

Claude hopes that after Teach laughs in his face she’ll help refine another scheme.

He tries to sit casually and adjusts the place settings while he waits. He’s measuring out the Almyran pine needles when it dawns on him that he doesn’t know which tea Teach prefers. She would always drink the favoured tea of whomever she was chatting with. When she enters the room Claude finds himself asking what her favourite flavour of tea is before saying anything else.

She gives him a curious look as she answers. “Honestly, I prefer coffee but I know it’s hard to come by. I don’t mind drinking whatever you’re drinking.” 

Claude sheepishly pours her a cup of tea as they sit quietly for a few moments. Teach watches him closely as she takes her first sip and for once he finds himself at a loss for words, wishing he hadn’t told her about Hubert’s letter in the first place.

“Tell me about your scheme,” she says as he opens his mouth to apologize. 

Claude can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. “Thing is, Hilda pointed out all of the issues with my first scheme and made some suggestions. Her modified scheme would probably work but it’s a bit far-fetched.” 

“Try me,” the professor counters and Claude should have expected it. She’s a strategist in her own right. 

He tells her about his initial plan and Hilda’s critiques. Teach nods in agreement and asks him to tell her about the modifications. Once Claude finishes explaining Hilda’s new scheme he waits for the fallout but she barely flinches.

After what feels like an eternity, she speaks. “Hilda is correct that it would achieve our goals and we would not actually have to marry.” 

“I know, it is ridiculous—,” Claude starts before his brain catches up. “Wait, you’re considering this?” 

The professor nods sternly, as though they are reviewing a territorial dispute or drafting a new policy. “It makes sense, I think. After we get the answers we need we can quietly go our separate ways. They’ll assume we’re both in Almyra, which will grant a certain amount of flexibility.” 

Claude laughs, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “You’re full of surprises, Teach.”

“You should probably stop calling me that when we’re engaged.” She smirks, but he can’t quite tell if she’s being serious. 

Claude decides to play along anyway, falling into the silliness of the situation. 

“Should I call you sweetheart? Honey? My darling? Do you have any preferences?” he teases. 

When she fails to offer a laugh or a witty retort he notices that she has grown quiet, carefully studying her teacup. All playfulness has fallen flat in between them, the energy shifting.

“I’d prefer to be called Byleth,” she says quietly, hands gripped tight around her cup. 

It dawns on Claude that the only person he ever heard call her Byleth was Jeralt, and that was only sparingly, which means that she has probably not been addressed by name in a long time.

“Then from now on I’ll call you Byleth.” He says it warmly in an attempt to convey that he understands this is important to her. 

Byleth’s eyes snap up to meet his at the sound of her name and Claude is caught off guard by the impact of seeing her smile so sincerely. It takes him a moment to regain composure though he tries to play it off. He can’t believe they’re actually going to go through with this. He tries to break the tension of the previous moment. 

“Sorry I didn’t bring a ring,” he jokes. “I’ll be sure to get you one if we’re going to go through with this.”

Byleth opens up her jacket and reaches into hidden pocket. “I have one, actually.” 

She pulls out a beautiful silver ring with purple gemstones creating the shape of a star. “It belonged to my mother. My father told me it would be mine to give to someone after he—well, you know.”

Claude tries to ignore the way her face has fallen at the mention of Jeralt. “It’s beautiful. May I?” 

Byleth holds it out to him and he takes it carefully. It’s a simple, delicate ring of fine craftsmanship. Claude reaches for Byleth’s hand and takes it in his own before he slides the ring onto her finger. There’s the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. 

“Now what?” she asks. 

“We have to decide how to share the good news,” Claude laughs. 

Byleth nods. “We’ll have to go over our story so that it’s consistent. We can work out the smaller details as we travel.” 

“Right,” Claude sighs. “I guess we’ll have to talk to Hilda.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos on the first chapter! I appreciate the encouragement and have been doing more writing. I'm hoping to update weekly on Sundays. The rating on this fic might go up to M just to be on the safe side, but I'll always post relevant warnings at the top of each chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the update :)


	3. Chapter 3

Byleth twirls her mother’s ring around her finger, remembering the reverence her father’s voice held as asked her to one day gift this ring to someone she loved. She knows this isn’t what Jeralt had in mind but hopes he’ll forgive her. Claude is the best opportunity she has to get the answers she so desperately seeks. And, Byleth selfishly hopes to use it as an opportunity to make her escape once everything is over. It will look like she’s going to Almyra to be married when instead she will quietly slip away to anywhere she wishes. 

“Professor, did you catch all of that?” Hilda asks sweetly. Byleth knows she’s been caught daydreaming in the middle of Hilda’s retelling of the love story she's crafted for Byleth and Claude. 

Apparently, their love developed through letter writing. After Derdriu was freed from the Empire’s siege they shared a passionate reunion. Claude knew he needed to leave for Almyra and asked to write to Byleth. They corresponded in secret for the rest of the war and the connection between them grew even as they were apart. Over the past year Byleth dreamed of running away to Almyra to be with Claude but was committed to rebuilding the country she helped to save. Claude assured her that he would come to visit whenever he could. When he reunited with Byleth in Fhirdiad he realized he could not live without her and immediately proposed. 

It sounded absolutely ridiculous, as did many of the ways people talked about falling in love. Byleth never really understood the heart-racing, stomach-fluttering, weak-in-the-knees feelings that most people described when they tried to convey what love felt like. Every time she reads her father’s diary she is taken by the multitude of passages dedicated to his feelings for Byleth’s mother. That his adoration could be so vividly expressed in words is a puzzle to Byleth, who has never felt even a whisper of such things.

“I caught enough of it,” Byleth mumbles.

“Come on Hilda we’ve gone over it pretty thoroughly,” Claude intervenes, stretching his arms behind his head as he leans back in his chair. “No one’s going to ask that many questions.” 

Hilda sighs as if the concern should be obvious. “People are nosy. They need to believe you’re in love. The bare minimum is knowing how you got there in the first place.” 

Byleth looks over at Claude and shrugs. “Once we’re out of Fhirdiad it won’t matter. We’ll be travelling on our own.”

“Actually,” Claude says, “we’ll have to travel with my retainer Nader and our battalion of soldiers. They aren’t going to leave me unattended while I’m here. We’ll have to find an honour guard for you too.” 

“Sure but we’ll let them in on the plan.” 

Claude shakes his head. “Too risky. Who knows what kind of resources this shadow group has, let alone the nobles here who might be spying on us. The only people who can know are the three of us in this room.” 

Byleth’s stomach turns as she begins to think of the implications of this scheme and the work it will take to keep it going. If they’re going to be travelling with a group of people they will need to keep up the charade at all times. They will need to make it as convincing as possible. She sees Claude observing her, the look in his eyes contradicting his stiff smile. He’s come to the same conclusions. 

“Getting cold feet?” 

He’s joking but Byleth can hear that the concern in his voice. She knows Claude wants her help with this, though she hasn’t discerned why exactly it needs to be her. For now their goals align and she’s willing to work with him. 

“This will never work,” Hilda groans. “The two of you are about as passionate as a pile of wet firewood.” 

Claude scoffs at Hilda's criticism. “Give us some time to get into character. We can pull this off, can’t we Byleth?” 

Byleth is startled by the use of her name and how natural it sounds rolling off Claude’s tongue. It’s odd to hear her name after so long; everyone except her father seemed averse to using it, and even he called her “kid” most of the time. There’s a hint of mischief in Claude's eyes as he waits for her to react and Byleth feels annoyed with Hilda's lack of faith.

Byleth gives Claude a smile as she reaches out for his hand. “Of course, _darling_.” 

Claude winks at her as he pulls her hand to his lips for a quick kiss.

Hilda eyes dart between Claude and Byleth before she quirks an eyebrow. “Better.” 

“This has been great Hilda but I need to get going.” Claude stands up and stretches before giving Hilda a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for your help.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she teases.

Byleth stands as Claude approaches her, extending his hands, and she gingerly takes them in her own. Hilda has the decency to become distracted by something on her desk and turns away from them which Byleth appreciates.

She knows this whole thing is a bit ridiculous though it seems to be a simple way for them to both get what they want. Fódlan has always favoured nobility and crest bearers, with marriage being a privileged function of its society. Claude could find another way, using political favours and Almyran resources, though he may not get everything he wants without gaining notice. Without this scheme Byleth will not have an easy reason to step back from the position of Archbishop. 

“We’ll announce the engagement at dinner. If anything changes from now to then you say the word and we call it off,” he says, eyes carefully focused on hers.

“I will see this through.” 

Claude squeezes her hands before he lets go, then quietly leaves the room. 

Hilda calls out a goodbye to Claude as she turns back to Byleth. “Well professor, should we pick out your outfit for tonight’s dinner?” 

“On one condition,” Byleth says with a smirk. Being around Hilda and Claude’s scheming has inspired her.

“Sure,” Hilda says happily.

“When’s the last time you used your axe?”

“Oh professor, you know I’m not made for hard work.” Hilda says it with a sigh even though she’s smiling. 

Byleth drags Hilda to the training grounds where they spend the rest of the afternoon sparring.  
  
***

The majority of Claude’s day is spent drafting a trade agreement. He is satisfied, knowing that it's a good start, though he could have done without the posturing. Despite its new name, the Kingdom of Fódlan has done little to amend territorial operations. Dimitri knows he can count on his friends to support his reforms yet seems unwilling to push the older, more entrenched nobles toward meaningful change. 

Much of the former Adrestian Empire’s seats have shifted—such are the spoils of war—and the Alliance territories continue to favour any reforms that promote trade, but Dimitri is reticent to make changes in Faerghus. Claude thinks that Dimitri’s home territory should be where he has the most goodwill but nobles like Margrave Gautier maintain more power than appropriate and have far too much input. Throughout the day Claude needs to remind himself that the reforms of this country are not his concern. 

He is exhausted by the end of the afternoon, hurrying back to his room to change for dinner before picking up Byleth. His _betrothed_. Claude laughs in spite of himself. 

Nader is in the suite when Claude arrives, drinking wine straight from the bottle as he lounges on one of the sofas. Unsurprising given there isn’t much to do around the castle that would entertain him.

“How’d it go kiddo?” he asks as Claude rushes into the room.

“They gave me everything I asked for.” He gives a bow as Nader applauds him from the sofa.

Claude steps into the bedroom to change. He’s tried to dress in more traditionally Alliance styled clothing, hoping his ancestry will appeal to the nobility in spite of the Almyran crown resting on his head. Now that he is known as the King of Almyra, Claude wonders if he should give up his Fódlan pseudonym. He stashes a few knives and a generalized poison antidote on his person before returning to Nader.

“I have other news for you,” Claude says in Almyran, sinking down into the sofa beside Nader. 

Nader stands the bottle up on the floor beside him and gestures for Claude to continue. Claude knows if he cannot manage to persuade Nader that the engagement is real then the scheme is over before it begins. Claude considers letting him in on the secret, but that is a card he would rather play later if he needs it. He knows this information is safest kept between the fewest number of people.

“You’ll be happy to know that I’m engaged.” 

Nader watches Claude carefully, his surprise barely registering in the twitch of his brow. “To be married?”

“We’re not exactly engaged in battle now, are we?” Claude says with a careful smirk. He reminds himself that he needs to look pleased at the prospect, not be a smart ass. 

Nader narrows his eyes for a moment, assessing. “I thought you didn’t want to get married.” 

“I didn’t want to get married for the sake of pleasing my father,” Claude retorts.

“What changed?” 

For all his bluster Nader is highly perceptive. He didn’t earn the title of Undefeated on luck alone. Claude knows the best deceptions have truth woven through them; an art he’s continuously worked to improve. This particular deception needs to be perfect.

“There was someone I was interested in before but I haven’t seen her in a long time. We had tea this morning and she surprised me. Brought the ring and everything,” he laughs. 

Nader waits a few moments, looking for Claude to falter, and relaxes back into the sofa when he seems content. He picks up the wine bottle and hands it to Claude. 

“So, who is this woman that has won the mighty Khalid’s heart?” 

Claude takes a long drink from the bottle as he sits down next to Nader. There is no turning back now. 

“Byleth Eisner, daughter of the Blade Breaker and Archbishop of Fódlan.” 

It takes a moment to register before Nader lets out a booming laugh and smacks Claude in the shoulder. “The one that saved you in Derdriu?” 

“Saved _us_ in Derdriu, Nader.” 

Claude smiles sheepishly as he remembers that battle. He would certainly have died if Byleth had not arrived in time. Claude gambled on sending the letter to Fhirdiad, believing Byleth would succeed there and receive it in time. He had no illusions that she was the driving force behind Dimitri’s campaign. Given the rumours of his instability, there was no way Dimitri would have been successful without her. Claude set up their defence with the sole hope Byleth would arrive and together they could fend off the attack. 

“The one and only.” Claude smiles, and this one is honest. 

“I’ll be damned kiddo. You never settle do you?”

“Not if I can help it,” Claude says, though it’s softer than he intends. 

***

Tonight’s dinner is smaller and less formal than the coronation feast the night before. Those in attendance will be people that they know, a reunion of sorts from their time at Garreg Mach. Byleth appreciates the effort Dimitri is putting in, even if she has done her best to avoid him. She mentally prepares herself to announce the engagement and wonders what the reaction will be. Byleth knows everyone will be shocked but she tries to keep Hilda’s advice at the forefront of her mind. _Be gracious, look like you enjoy each other’s company, and try to smile!_

“This is it,” Claude says as he squeezes her hand.

They have their fingers laced together as Hilda told them it looks more intimate. It feels strangely reassuring to be connected to someone in this way, though Byleth can’t explain why. Byleth manages a smile as she steps closer to Claude and closes the gap between their bodies. If Claude is surprised he doesn’t show it, but she knows that he’s much better at acting. 

The dining room is nearly full. Hilda recommended they wait to enter so as to make the announcement once and not rely on word to spread. Hearing it directly from the two of them would add to its credibility. 

Dimitri calls out a greeting to Claude and Byleth before noticing their entwined hands and visibly catches himself for a moment. Claude says hello as Dimitri’s pause is noticed and then nearly everyone in the room turns to look at the entrance. Byleth’s pulse quickens as though she’s been caught in an ambush. She sees the sea of faces shift as it registers that something is happening. Claude must sense her panic, holding her hand firmly like he’s the anchor keeping her from drifting into a storm at sea. The room is silent as they move forward and Byleth tries to resist the urge to turn back time to a few moments ago before they entered.

That any of their cohort could become a couple is not a surprise given everything they have been through together. A few of the students had started pairing off before the war ended and more couples emerged slowly after. In this case Byleth knows the difference is that she herself is involved. She who is a friend to so many of them yet remains so distant. That she should choose to be with anyone must come as a shock, especially to Claude who was so removed from their efforts. 

“Please don’t let us interrupt,” Claude says warmly and the buzz of conversation slowly returns. Byleth is impressed by his ability to appear so at ease and wonders if it’s practised or a natural part of his demeanour.

Claude leads them to the table and lets go of Byleth’s hand to pull out a chair, motioning for her to sit down and tucking it in as she does. He sits down next to her and takes her hand again, holding it between their two chairs where no one can see. Byleth thinks the gesture is to ease her nerves and she appreciates his consideration even if it does serve to further the charade. 

Claude turns to speak with Lorenz while Byleth watches Ingrid whispering in Dimitri’s ear over his shoulder. Byleth sees them both look at her briefly before Ingrid steps back and Dimitri addresses the table—the first thing he has said aloud since Byleth and Claude entered together.

“Good evening everyone. I am pleased to announce we have reached a trade agreement with our neighbouring country of Almyra, the first of it’s kind. I would like to thank the King of Almyra, my friend Claude, for his cooperation and support in this endeavour.” Dimitri gestures to Claude as a few of the people around the table clap politely.

Claude gives Dimitri a warm thank you in response before standing to speak. “My friends, I am glad to be here and see such cooperation between us all. It is something I have dreamed of for years.” 

Byleth hears him give a small laugh before putting a hand on her shoulder and looking down at her fondly. Her eyes go wide and he gives her a wink to signal that this is the announcement. 

“It seems that all of my dreams are coming true today,” Claude says carefully, just loud enough for those closest to overhear. 

Byleth knows Claude's a very good actor but he can’t carry the scheme alone. She reaches a hand up to her shoulder to rest it on top of Claude’s, a signal for him to continue. She tries to look at him fondly, giving a small smile. She tries to imagine what it looks like for everyone watching them.

“I apologize for the intrusion but we could hardly wait to share the news,” Claude says happily. “Byleth and I are engaged.” 

The room is stunned into silence save for Sylvain’s too-loud _I knew it_ , followed by Felix hissing _shut up, Sylvain_. Everyone appears to be in shock, their faces a range of emotions. Byleth knew it might be a difficult sell but she hardly thought it would be this unbelievable she could fall in love.

Dimitri is staring at them with an unreadable expression while everyone else is looking around the table unsure of who should speak first. After a few tense moments Lorenz interrupts the tension and Byleth has never been happier to hear him speak. 

“Please accept my humble congratulations to you both. Such a union between our nations, and our friends, is certainly reason for celebration.” 

Byleth smiles back at him, genuinely appreciative of his kindness. 

“Thank you, my friend,” Claude says happily as he shakes Lorenz’s hand before sitting back down. “We couldn’t be happier.” 

Dimitri seems to return to himself after a moment, smiling stiffly as he speaks. “I apologize. You have caught us all of guard it seems, though you have my sincerest congratulations for your union.” 

Byleth is wary of Dimitri’s reaction. She cannot help the feelings of fear that stir, thinking back to moments during the war where Dimitri’s fury would erupt from long stretches of silence. She thinks about all of the times she would try to approach him in the cathedral while he was muttering to himself, speaking to his ghosts. Nothing she did mattered. It was all she could do to contain him, let alone help him. She was managing their army on his behalf while being pressured to fix him or placate him as Gilbert and Rodrigue gave in to Dimitri’s whims, expecting Byleth to manage the consequences. There had been times she considered giving up on it and walking away—and then immediately despised herself for such thoughts. She did the best she could to keep everyone together, storing away her own feelings as needed. Byleth would be whatever they needed her to be.

In the end Dimitri’s slow return to himself had nothing to do with her. She rewound time to try and prevent it, but fate was cruel. She had watched the scene unfold enough times to be certain: Rodrigue’s death was always the key. 

“Byleth?” Claude’s voice is speaking softly in her ear and it sends a shiver down her spine. She feels a warm hand gently rest on her lower back.

Byleth turns to face him, realizing too late how close they are as her nose brushes against his cheek. She stills, resisting the urge to move away in case anyone at the table is paying close attention. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay.” 

“What?” 

She looks down to see her hand, white-knuckled, gripping Claude’s knee. Around the table people are eating and there’s a plate of untouched food in front of her that she doesn’t remember arriving. 

“Take a deep breath,” Claude says calmly. 

She does, conscious of the few people watching them from across the table. At this moment she’s glad she knows everyone in the room. She nods slowly so Claude can feel it on his cheek. 

“That’s it. Focus on breathing.”

His voice is as gentle as his words. Byleth relaxes her grip on his knee. She pulls back a fraction so that they are nearly nose to nose and whispers thank you. His eyes are such a deep, beautiful green. She moves way from him and Claude gives her a suggestive smile, as though they’ve shared some kind of secret.

Conversation is happening around her but she’s having difficulty paying attention, her mind wandering in and out. Throughout the rest of the meal she feels Claude’s hand covering her own under the table where no one can see it. 

***

Claude carries them through dinner as best he can, glad that Byleth has never been the most expressive person. On anyone else her demeanour would be concerning. Most of the people in attendance would see this as just a step above her usual brand of stoicism. Claude pays better attention than most people. 

Byleth’s mind was elsewhere for the duration of dinner; something shifted right before Dimitri’s rather wooden congratulations to them. If she had been uncomfortable with the plan she might have called it off, said it was a prank, and blamed Claude with a laugh. Instead she froze; a fear response. Claude managed to bring her out of it, though he would hardly call her present during dinner. He overcompensated for her silence with his usual brand of exuberance, teasing, and deflection. He imagines it only adds to the confusion of how such a pair came together and hopes they chalk it up to the idea that opposites attract.

Dinner finally ends and people start filtering out of the room as they give their congratulations. Byleth is firmly pressed to Claude’s side, holding onto his arm as though she is bound there. He thanks the gods for Hilda when she distracts the group by regaling them with Byleth and Claude’s love story, and they take the opportunity to quietly step out. He moves them quickly down the hallway and stops in the first alcove he finds. When he pulls Byleth in with him they’re facing one another. 

Claude puts his hands on her shoulders gently as he says her name and she looks up at him slowly. Her eyes are glassy, as though she is only a moment away from tears. “We can call this whole thing off if it’s too much.” 

She shakes her head, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Claude can’t recall a time he’s ever seen her visibly distressed. He can’t imagine anyone earning the title of _Ashen Demon_ by being particularly expressive.

“It’s okay, you can tell me,” Claude says carefully. 

He watches her closely as a tear runs down her cheek and she brushes it away with her fingers, pulling her hand away in surprise at what she finds there.

“I don’t know why this is happening,” she stammers as she shows him her hand. 

He takes the opportunity to study her face while they are pressed together in such a small space, realizing he has never been this close to her before. Her hair has grown out a bit in the last year, bangs hastily brushed across her face, the choppy layers still evident from the last time she cut it—likely doing it herself. She is beautiful, in her own intriguing way, and though she has been a mercenary nearly her entire life she seems so unaware of the world. Jeralt’s influence, Claude imagines. The Blade Breaker taught his daughter how to wield weapons, defend herself—even to kill—yet shielded her so greatly from the world that she is shocked by her own tears.

“I need to get back to my room,” Byleth stammers, lost. 

Claude takes her hand and leads her carefully through the castle, trying his best to avoid seeing anyone. When they are back in her room she lets go of his hand and stands in the middle of the room, near expressionless in spite of her tear-tracked cheeks. 

Claude awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, unsure what his role is now. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I don’t really know what _it_ is.” Byleth gives an empty laugh. “It keeps happening. I have no control.”

She looks so dejected standing in the middle of the room in the sparkling, beautiful dress that he’s sure Hilda must have lent her. 

“Feelings tend to do that,” he says as he steps toward her. 

She seems confused and Claude holds back the urge to laugh. If it were anyone else he’d think they were joking but Byleth has always been different. As a student he had seen her wield a relic without a crest stone, watched her best Thunderbrand Catherine in an afternoon spar, and heard rumours the goddess Sothis herself gifted Byleth with powers.

Claude sits down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” 

“It was Dimitri. His silence.” Byleth drops down onto the bed beside him. “It reminded me of how he was during the war, when he wasn’t really himself. I was always tiptoeing around him waiting for him to explode. There was no predicting it.” 

Claude thinks of how fearful she looked at dinner, the wide-eyed panic and the way she gripped his knee. “Seems like his anger really had an effect on you.”

There is a stretch of silence before she speaks again, eyes forward and staring directly into the past. “I bore the brunt of it most of the time. Everyone expected me to make him better right away, as though I could make up for the five years I was gone.”

Claude can hear the edge in her voice. He’s heard enough from Hilda to know the rumours about Dimitri were true. He was terrifying during the war, balancing on the edge. Claude knows Dimitri’s darkness had been simmering for a long time before Byleth’s disappearance. 

“Byleth,” he says carefully, “It wasn’t your fault.” 

She starts at that, turning to face Claude with wide eyes. She stares at him for what feels like an eternity though he cannot seem to discern any of her thoughts. Then she turns her stare downward, balling her hands up into fists in the fabric of her dress, pulling at it in frustration. 

They are quiet for a long time, and Claude wonders if anyone has told her this before. Who had she spoken to during the war when she needed encouragement or kindness? Had no one noticed? There were so many questions he wanted to ask her. 

She turns to him at last and speaks. “Do you remember when I saw you again at Gronder Field? During the war?” 

It isn't the response Claude was expecting. As much as he wishes he could erase that day from his memory, he recalls it well. It was a failure on his part that the Alliance even participated in that battle. He hoped that they could have allied with the Kingdom forces on the field to rout the Empire and stop Edelgard, but the Kingdom army was disorganized and uncommunicative. Claude ignored the warnings against participating in the battle and Alliance soldiers lost their lives for his grave mistake.

He tries to keep his voice even as he remembers meeting Byleth on the field that day. Claude sought out the only person he thought he would be able to reason with; the only person he thought would not kill him on sight. 

“I was surprised you were alive and I told you we should be fighting together.” 

Byleth looks at him with sad eyes. “We did send a messenger to you before the battle. They obviously didn't make it. Dimitri didn’t care whether the Alliance joined forces with us but I didn’t want to fight you.” 

Claude remembers aiming his bow at her halfheartedly. She knew he wasn’t serious. That he didn’t want to fire. She sent a mild spell his way, enough to incapacitate him, and told him to leave the field with his army while they went after Edelgard.

“You didn’t kill me.” He says it with enough uncertainty that it is nearly a question.

Byleth stares at him, offended. “Of course not.”

“We both know you could have.” The question is implied. _Why didn't you?_

She stands up, folding her arms over her chest as she paces back and forth. “I couldn’t.” 

It’s not a question of practical application; she’s one of the most prodigious fighters he’s ever seen. It’s strange seeing Byleth with her heart on her sleeve for him to read so easily. Claude wonders if she’s ever spoken to anyone about the things she’s been holding on to since the war. Or before it. 

“We all wanted to take back Fhirdiad but Dimitri was obsessed with killing Edelgard,” she says angrily. “He wouldn’t listen to anything I said. No one listened to anything I said. But they said they needed me.” 

She stops pacing and laughs eerily. Byleth looks at the sword of the creator resting on a sword stand. “They needed that.” She turns back to Claude. “All I am is a sword.” 

Anything he can think to say dies in his throat when he sees fresh tears in her eyes. Claude does the only thing he can think to do and stands up with his arms open toward her. His mother had done it for him a thousand times. _When there’s nothing left that you can say the best thing to do is just be there_ , she would say.

Byleth looks at him for a moment, hesitating for a heartbeat before she throws herself against his chest. He wraps his arms around her and lets her stay there for a while, long enough that he hears her breathing even out. 

“I want to leave,” she mumbles into his chest. 

“I asked Hilda to recruit some attendants for you from our trusted allies. We could leave tomorrow if we want.” 

Byleth looks up at him and he’s taken aback by how intimate it is to be holding her like this, wondering why she’s told him her hidden feelings. Wondering why she’s trusting him with so much. He notices her eyes are such a beautiful pale green. 

“Thanks Claude,” she says quietly. “For everything.”

He smiles as he pulls away from her, too caught up in this strange moment of honesty between them. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

When he reaches the end of the hall he is unsurprised to find the door to Hilda’s room slightly ajar. It reminds him of their days at the monastery, the silent signal she was waiting up for anyone looking for silly gossip or pilfered wine. He steps into the room and sees her seated at the dressing table brushing out her hair. She looks at Claude from the mirror with a knowing grin as he falls into the closest armchair.

“I was a bit worried when you left dinner so quickly but I think I played it off. The two of you are making up for lost time.” Hilda gives an overdone imitation of Claude’s own suggestive wink.

Claude feels exhausted and wonders if this entire thing is a huge mistake. He pulls off his gloves and rubs slow circles around his temples. 

Hilda hands him a cup of chamomile tea. “This looks dire.” 

It’s steaming. “Did you have this waiting?” 

She smiles back at him. “I knew you’d stop in. And I only listened at the door a little.” 

“ _Hilda_.”

“After that weirdness at dinner I was concerned. You’re lucky most people think she’s shy.” She raises her hands in mock surrender when she sees the withering look he’s giving her. “I would have interrupted if it was needed but you handled it just fine.” 

Claude sips his tea, choosing to give Hilda a bit of the silent treatment in exchange for eavesdropping. He had never met a bigger gossip, although the things she shared were always inconsequential and amusing; never malicious. When it came to the important stuff there was no one he trusted more. That was the interesting thing about Hilda: it was easy to make assumptions about her. Appearances were certainly deceiving. 

Claude could see her pouting at him out of the corner of his eye. “Do you have an update on Byleth’s retinue? She wants to leave tomorrow.” 

Hilda perks up a bit. “Of course. They’ve all agreed.”

“And?” 

She holds up a hand and begins counting off on her fingers. “Leonie and her mercenary group. You’ll have to pay them but they didn’t ask any questions. Lysithea was happy to help when I mentioned it was for you and Byleth. Linhardt agreed to come in exchange for the comfortable escort back to the monastery. Sylvain asked me to come along before I could even extend the invite.” 

“Really? I thought he’d want to stay close to Felix.” 

“Problems with his father and that stupid lance so he needs a good reason to get out of Faerghus for a bit. Margrave Gautier can’t say no to the Archbishop,” Hilda says. Then, after a beat, “And he hasn’t told Felix how he feels yet.” 

“Still?”

“I know. Ridiculous, those two.” 

Claude smiles as he drains his tea. The group that Hilda has put together is solid. He is friends with most of them and, even if he doesn’t trust anyone as much as he does Hilda, he knows they’re reliable. The fact that they all have individual motivations works in his favour as well. Hopefully they won’t ask too many questions and if they do he has have leverage on each of them. Claude doesn’t want to alert the church or Dimitri that he is meddling in their private and political affairs—not when he has worked so hard to create the trade agreements Almyra desperately needs.

“Good work Hil.”

Hilda beams, obviously pleased with herself. “You can buy me something nice later.” 

Claude rises out of the chair and moves toward the door, calling out a goodnight to Hilda as he goes. He hears Hilda clear her throat, stopping him at the doorway. 

In a careful, serious voice she says, “Claude, I know that you love a good mystery but be careful with this one, okay?” 

“With the creepy shadow organization? I’ll do my best,” he laughs. 

“With Byleth.” 

“She’s fine, Hilda. Don’t worry,” he says as he steps through the door. 

Hilda turns back to the dressing table with a sigh. “She’s not the one I’m worried about.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos—ya'll are wonderful! I hope you continue to enjoy this story and I look forward to hearing your thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Sleep was difficult for Byleth. Most nights she would occupy time reading her father’s diary or writing in her own, reading books, or sneaking to the training grounds for late night practice. The weight of a blade in her hand always made her feel more comfortable than a feathered bed, though there was little opportunity to use the former in the past year. Eventually exhaustion would overtake her and she might get a few fitful hours of dream-filled sleep before rising again with the dawn. 

That is why she is surprised to find sun streaming into her windows when she slowly opens her eyes after a restful sleep. She remembers the night before with Claude, kinder than she imagined, listening to her reopen old wounds and holding her as she cried. She feels lighter than she has in ages, having finally told someone how she felt during the war with so much placed upon her. She was surprised Claude noticed enough to ask, even if she’s unsure why he stayed. Certainly there was nothing to gain for their scheme without an audience to witness it.

She begins to pack the few belongings she has accumulated during her time in the capital when a loud knock at the door interrupts. Over her shoulder she calls for them to come in as she finishes unceremoniously dumping a pile of books into her trunk. She knows she has slept later than intended and imagines Claude is concerned about leaving on time so she is all too ready to apologize.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says as she stands. “Thanks for yesterday. I slept well after you left last night—”

When she turns around she finds that the man standing at the door is not who she expected. 

“—Oh, Dimitri. Hello.” 

Dimitri has not sought her out since Edelgard’s defeat. They have spent countless hours travelling or sitting in council rooms and dining halls surrounded by others, but he has never asked to speak with her alone. Byleth hasn’t approached him either. 

Neither of them seem sure of how to broach the topic of their difficult relationship during the war with so much left unsaid between them. There were many things she held onto in his absence. Sometimes she wonders how much Dimitri remembers, or how much awareness the fog of his trauma allowed. Some things are too dark and difficult to be brought back into the light of the present.

“I imagine you were expecting Claude.” 

Dimitri is standing in the doorway stammering an apology for the intrusion and Byleth realizes her greeting could have been interpreted in a less innocent way than intended. 

“We’re leaving today,” she says, deflecting. Better not to correct his assumption.

“Yes, I’ve heard.” Dimitri steps in from the doorway, surveying her room. “I’m sure you are glad to be reunited but it’s all been rather quick.”

This is the kind of scrutiny Hilda warned them about. Claude told her to be as honest as she could so that it would feel more real.

“I guess it looks that way. We made the decision together over tea yesterday morning and now here we are.” 

Dimitri’s figure is tall and imposing but his appearance has softened over the past year. He keeps his hair swept back in a ponytail and there is less darkness in his eyes. He walks toward the window, looking out at the garden below. After a few moments he turns back to Byleth and his voice is warmer than when he entered. 

“I am happy for you, professor. I apologize if I seemed put off yesterday. I was a bit surprised, as you can imagine. It is strange to think you are leaving after all this time.” 

His words are kind and she knows that he’s trying. 

“Claude does love a good scheme,” Byleth offers. 

“He certainly does.” Dimitri’s lip quirks up in the corner, the hint of a smile, and Byleth relaxes a fraction. 

“It’s been time for me to move on for a while. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“I understand,” Dimitri says. “I know that things have been busy since the end of the war. It took its toll on all of us.” 

She had been a mentor to Dimitri, trying to guide him down the right path. He found his way back after everything that happened and had been doing well, but he had not needed her for a long time. 

“The past year has been difficult. I’ve always been most comfortable as a mercenary. Politics aren’t my strength,” Byleth says.

“I have greatly appreciated your counsel professor. I daresay I would not be where I am without it.” Dimitri gives a rueful smile. “I am glad to know you are leaving for the sake of your own happiness. You deserve it.” 

“Thank you, Dimitri,” Byleth smiles back. “You do too.” 

It feels as close to an apology as they can manage between them. They all have their ghosts—Dimitri more than most—and Byleth needs some time to sort through hers.

“I hope you have a safe journey. Please write to let us know when you’ve arrived back at the monastery.” 

“Yes, of course.”

Dimitri waves at her from the doorway and she smiles. She hears his footsteps echo through the hallway when he leaves. She cannot help the sigh of relief that escapes her.

The castle is buzzing with activity when Byleth finally leaves her room dressed in armour and a travelling cloak, the sword of the creator strapped to her side. The dining room is empty as it is well past breakfast time. She hears noise building in the courtyard where their party is preparing to depart. As she walks down the steps she sees Claude talking to a large Almyran man with imposing scars and a beard. She recognizes him briefly from Derdriu and thinks that this must be Claude’s retainer, Nader. 

“Byleth,” Claude calls to her, coming up to meet her on the stairs. He wraps her up in an embrace, whispering in her ear as she presses herself against him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come get you this morning. We should talk about our cover—” 

They are interrupted by a deep, resonant voice. “Hey kiddo, you going to keep cuddling or are you going to introduce us?” 

Claude laughs as he releases Byleth to make the introductions. “Byleth Eisner, meet Nader the Undefeated.” 

“Nice to meet you,” she says carefully, holding out her hand to him. 

Nader grasps her forearm and she returns the gesture, an old mercenary greeting. She easily predicts his next move. He lunges forward with a dagger in his other hand, striking toward her side. Byleth sees it coming, stepping forward and using her body weight to twist their grasped arms, moving behind him and pinning his arm to his back. With her left hand she takes her own dagger and holds it to Nader’s neck. 

Byleth sees Claude watching them with wide-eyed shock. Nader starts to laugh and puts his own dagger away as Byleth releases him. 

“I haven’t seen that one in a while,” Byleth smiles, familiar with the move. 

It was a good way to test someone’s identity. Any mercenary worth the coin should be able to disarm a dagger. It’s a strange kind of nostalgia she feels in Nader’s greeting, wishing for her father and the freedom of the life she once had.

Nader turns toward her and pulls her in for a hug. “I knew I’d like you.”

She laughs, watching over his shoulder as a strange look momentarily pass over Claude’s face. He moves to speak to an attendant nearby, assured that Byleth and Nader are not in fact trying to kill one another.

Byleth is glad to be leaving Fhirdiad. She is looking forward to travelling again, living on the road as she once had with her father and their mercenary group. The trip back to the monastery would not take them more than ten days at a good pace down the king’s road through the border of Blaiddyd and Galatea territories, then into Charon before reaching the mountains. 

Byleth espects their group will be travelling by horseback, as many of their party are strong riders and it is the usual method of travel. She is utterly shocked when Nader ushers her toward the lower courtyard where a great white wyvern is resting in front a battalion of wyvern riders. 

“C’mon I’ll help you up,” Claude calls out from behind her as he walks toward the wyvern. 

She blanches, unsure how to tell him she’s afraid. Flying was never something she pursued and she imagines her skills wouldn’t meet the basic standards. Embarrassing for a professor she supposes, especially considering how many students she helped prepare for their own flying certifications.

“I’ve never flown,” she whispers to Claude. 

Claude looks surprised. “I assumed you were good at everything.” 

“I am a sword master and favour close range combat,” she huffs. “I assumed we’d be taking carriages or going on horseback.” 

“Flying is as natural to Almyrans as breathing. Horses aren’t as practical back home so this is the primary means of travel,” he explains. 

Byleth looks for her own retinue and sees that they are all mounted already. Sylvain wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Byleth from where he is seated with his arms around Hilda; Linhardt is doubled up with Lysithea on a pegasus, already asleep; and Leonie very determinedly sits on her own flying mount. 

Not one to back down from a challenge, Byleth sighs and steps toward the wyvern.

Claude coos sweetly and the wyvern dips its head toward them. “Say hello to Chrom.” 

Claude takes Byleth’s hand and places it on Chrom’s forehead, right between the horns. Byleth rubs slow circles with her hand and the wyvern makes a purring sound. 

“He likes you.” Claude moves to stand beside the saddle, offering a hand for Byleth to hold onto. She steps into the stirrup, swinging her leg up and over before settling in. Byleth grips the front of the saddle as Claude hops up and sits behind her.

“Is it okay if I hold onto you?” 

Byleth nods as Claude’s body curls around hers, his chest pressing against her back. One of his arms circles her waist while the other takes the reins.

“Squeeze with your thighs if you need to sit forward and be mindful that you don’t have a stirrup. Or you can relax back into me and you don’t have to worry. Chrom and I can do all the work.”

She hums her agreement, a touch of dizziness impacting her ability to form sentences. They haven’t gotten off the ground yet and her stomach is fluttering. She didn’t realize she was so afraid of flying.

“Hold on.” 

Claude calls out a word Byleth does not recognize and Chrom lifts off from the ground. They lurch forward, moving higher with each beat of the wyvern’s wings. Byleth squeezes her eyes shut, pressing herself back into Claude’s chest as she keeps a death grip on the saddle. She feels the cold Faerghus air hit them as they climb and Byleth is thankful the warmth of Claude at her back. 

The sounds of Fhirdiad below become quieter as they move. Byleth slowly opens her eyes and her breath catches at the sight of wide open sky, the ground expanded so far below them that she can see entire forests and farms. 

Claude laughs behind her and she knows she’s been found out.

“What do you think?” Claude moves closer to her shoulder, his voice just loud enough to hear over the rush of wind. 

“It’s stunning,” Byleth shouts back. 

Claude laughs, so close to her that she feels the curve of his smile as his lips ghost across her ear. 

She leans back, turning her face toward his. “Thank you, Claude.” 

He stares back at her with a spark in his eyes she’s never seen before. 

“Khalid.” 

She distracted by the depth of his gaze, unsure what she’s just heard. “Hm?”

Their lips are a breath apart and this time she nearly feels the words as he says them. “My real name. It’s Khalid.” 

“Khalid,” she repeats, careful and clear. She of all people can appreciate the importance of a name.

He repays her with a genuine smile, as warm as a sunset, and words fail to reach her mouth. Byleth faces forward again, letting go of the saddle so she can rest her hand on his as he holds the reins.

***

Claude’s body is singing with energy by the time they land. He tells himself it’s the adrenaline, his love for flying, the excitement of the adventure at hand. It is not the way Byleth’s lips curved around the sound of his true name or the feeling of her body fitting so easily into his. He reminds himself they are playing an elaborate game and though his body might not be able to tell the difference between a ruse and a truth, his mind can. 

His battalion sets to work making camp as he confers with Nader about their route to the monastery. Byleth is speaking to her own group close by and, though she had not said much for the duration of the trip, he can see her smiling. They have not had the opportunity to talk about the shadow group they are looking for or their plan for getting more information. Claude hopes they will have time later tonight when more of the group have retired. The sun is sinking low and fires are being lit in the middle of small circles of tents as the camp comes to life.

Claude double checks the guard rotations and sends out forward scouts before finding his own tent in the centre of camp. He hears laughter from within and when he steps inside he finds Byleth there with Nader seated on big cushions with an unmarked bottle between them.

“Took you long enough kiddo,” Nader calls as Claude enters.

“I wanted to be certain everything was in order.” 

Nader waves Claude off as he stands. “You got lucky with this one, Khalid.” 

Nader claps him on the shoulder and says goodbye to Byleth, who sits back looking more amused than Claude has ever seen her. He pulls off his boots and sinks into the pillow across from her, revelling in the opportunity to relax after a long day of travel. 

“I never thought you were the talkative type,” Claude smiles, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach as Byleth leans forward.

“I suppose the wine helped. I haven’t eaten all day. And besides,” Byleth says as she shifts closer, “I feel freer here.” 

“Do you miss life as a mercenary?” 

She is thoughtful for a moment. “It’s one thing to leave a life behind because you choose to. Being pulled away from it is something else.”

Claude hums his agreement, thinking back to the night in Remire when he, Dimitri, and Edelgard were attacked by bandits and sought help from Jeralt and Byleth. They were brought back to the monastery afterwards and from then on Byleth was taken down this path like a leaf is pulled downriver by the current. 

“Help me solve our mystery and then you can choose whatever life you want,” Claude says.

Her demeanour shifts as she watches him silently, studying his features with keen eyes. Reluctantly she gestures between the two of them with her hand. “I suppose we should talk about this.” 

Claude raises an eyebrow at her and she quickly speaks again.

“You know, the scheme. Hilda can only get us so far.”

“Right, of course.” He stretches his arms back behind his head, looking more at ease than he feels. 

Certainly he knew there would be more to the scheme than announcing an engagement, and now that they’re travelling with a smaller group there will be even more scrutiny placed on their actions. Claude begins trying to formulate a plan.

“I imagine there are certain expectations of behaviour,” Byleth stammers.

Claude’s tongue feels thick in his mouth as he considers what Byleth is implying. Sharing quarters is not a concern. There’s more than enough space to be respectful and they’re both used to these kind of sleeping arrangements given their experience as soldiers. The problem isn’t when the two of them are alone together. It’s the onlookers who need to be convinced they are in love. Claude wonders how far he’s willing to go to see this scheme through. 

“It’s hardly anyone’s business what our relationship looks like, though I’m not naive enough to think that no one is paying attention.” Claude clears his throat. “I’ll only do things both of us have agreed to. For the sake of this scheme or otherwise.”

Byleth looks as though she wants to speak, starting and stopping a few times as she searches out the words. Finally she sighs, shaking her head.

“I’ve never really been in a relationship,” she admits. “I mean, I have been physical with people before but nothing serious. I feel awkward telling you this. I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right.”

Byleth hides her face in her hands and Claude tries not to laugh at her embarrassment. He has never had a substantial relationship either. It’s too hard for him to let people get close; too much trust to give. He’s never felt as though he’s missing out. He would never want to be held down for the sake of obligation. There are too many things he wants to achieve. 

“You’re doing fine.” Claude tries his best to look reassuring. “So far we’ve been convincing but it’s only been a couple of days. It might be different now that it’s close quarters with the people around us.”

“I suppose it would help if we knew more about each other,” Byleth says. “To make it feel more authentic.” 

“What do you want to know?” Claude asks, though he’s never been much for sharing. 

Byleth must notice his hesitation and she offers an amiable solution. “What was it you said to me at the palace? An answer for an answer?” 

Claude smirks at this. Perhaps they’re more alike than he imagined. “You answer my question and I’ll answer yours.” 

Byleth stretches out, settling in on the cushion opposite him. “Why use a fake name?” 

“It isn’t fake. It is my name,” he shrugs. When Byleth frowns back at him he’s kind enough to elaborate. 

“It’s the Fódlan equivalent, I guess. Not so foreign as Khalid, which would be a dead giveaway. And my mother really is a von Riegan, so Claude von Riegan made sense.” 

“Would you prefer that I call you Khalid?”

“That’s two questions,” Claude deflects. 

What he really wants to say is _yes, always_ , because the way she says his name is thoughtful, with a gentleness he craves. He does not plan to ever admit to it. 

Byleth rolls her eyes at him but says nothing more, patiently waiting for Claude to ask a question in return. There are so many things he wonders about her. Too many things he wishes to know and all of them impersonal. He knows that if they were truly in love he would care about who she is, not what she is.

“What was it like growing up as a mercenary?” 

Claude knows he’s asked the right question when he’s rewarded with a small smile. “I always thought it was normal. I didn’t know any different.”

Her features fall into something sad and she looks conflicted. Claude waits. Eventually she speaks again.

“I honestly don’t remember much from my childhood. Things blur together. I didn’t feel things in the same way. It’s as though I was asleep before.” 

This catches his attention. Claude knows she’s become far more expressive since their days at the Officer’s Academy. When he was a student he would watch Byleth do everything with an impassive mask, never revealing anything under the surface. It was off-putting to find someone he could not get a reaction out of no matter the tactics he used. It changed slowly near the end of that year at the monastery. Sometimes she would smile, give a quiet laugh, or show a flash of anger in her eyes. He wonders why it happened; why Byleth’s feelings seem so off-putting to her. 

_Before what?_ he wants to ask, but Claude is patient enough to wait for another turn.

Byleth surprises him when she doesn’t repeat the question about his name. Instead she asks about his parents and the story of how they met. Claude can’t help the laugh that falls from his mouth, smiling as he thinks about the numerous times he’s heard his parents tell their story. 

For all the difficulty his mixed ancestry caused him growing up, Claude is thankful his parents have always supported him in learning about both sides of himself. It was the reason his mother agreed to send him to Fódlan after the death of his uncle, wishing for Claude to experience the other half of his inheritance. 

“My mother is Tiana von Riegan, youngest daughter of the former Duke Riegan. Her brother was to inherit the title and, as a noble woman with a minor crest, she was expected to enter into a strategically beneficial marriage for the sake of the house.” 

Claude thinks of the way his mother tells this part of her story, acting out the dramatic flare with which she stormed into her father’s study and told him she would not participate in an arranged marriage. She was astonished when her father locked her up in the estate, no longer willing to indulge her wild impropriety. 

“It didn’t matter,” Claude continues, “because she had an escape plan prepared.” 

Byleth chuckles at this and he relishes the sound of it. “So you come by the scheming honestly.”

Claude smiles wide at the compliment. Although he inherited his father’s charm and unruly Almyran hair, he was lucky enough to get his mother’s verdant eyes and inclination toward mischief.

“One she made it out of the estate she went to her friend Judith and begged for help. Judith was set to inherit her own house and was afforded much more freedom, so she disguised my mother as one of her attendants and left Derdriu.” 

He tried to ignore the warmth building across his cheeks. This was not a story he had shared before despite hearing it so many times himself. When he was a child he would often forego more traditional bedtime tales of knights and warriors in favour of this story. He especially loved it when his parents told it together. For him such a love was as difficult to imagine as dragon-slaying, but just as fantastic. 

“My mother wanted to travel past the borders of Fódlan. She ventured up through the mountains seeking out Kupala, a remote village of legend. After meeting the people there my mother decided to stay for a while.”

“And your father?” Byleth was hugging a pillow to her chest, enraptured by the story with an expression that urged him to continue. 

“I was getting to that part,” Claude winks. “And I won’t count that as an extra question. Who knew you were so impatient.” 

Byleth’s mouth drops open as she feigns offence to his comment. She takes the pillow she’s holding and tosses it at Claude, who chuckles as he as he catches it, warmth spreading into his chest.

“My parents met in Kupala. My mother had been learning from the women in the village. My father arrived with his best friend, Nader, after mapping the mountain trails between Almyra and their hostile neighbour. My mother had never seen an Almyran before and, as she tells it, she was taken with him the moment they met.”

Claude shakes his head, laughing at the thought of what came next. “They fell in love and she decided to go back to Almyra with him. That’s when she found out he was a prince. My father always said he never lied about it. He just wasn’t as honest as he could have been.”

“It sounds like they love each other very much,” Byleth says, her smile faltering. “It must have been nice to see that growing up.”

There’s something sitting under the surface of what she says and Claude can never help himself when it comes to pulling on loose threads. “What about your parents?” 

Byleth looks surprised at this question, cocking her head to the side in a way that makes her hair fall down over one shoulder. 

“They met at the monastery. She died giving birth to me and my father raised me on her own.” Byleth bites her lip before letting out a long breath. Then, more quietly, she says, “They’re buried at the monastery together. Everything I know about my mother I learned from my father’s diary. He didn’t talk about her much.” 

Claude winces. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”

Claude remembers the announcement of Jeralt’s death. Some of the students in Byleth’s class witnessed it from afar and called the knights for help. They brought Jeralt’s body back to the monastery and Byleth wasn’t seen again for over a week. He knew Jeralt was buried in the cemetery but never bothered to take account of who else might be there. 

Byleth hgrows silent, her eyes unfocused and staring past him, looking at something else entirely. He tries to bring her back to the present.

“It’s your turn to ask a question.” 

Byleth is startled by his voice, eyes snapping back to meet his. Claude puts on a smile, the kind he uses to put people at ease. It seems to have the opposite effect on Byleth. He realizes he’s made a mistake the moment she sees it, the slightest frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. A moment later it is gone, replaced by her own impassable mask.

“Should we get some dinner?” she says as she stands, moving away from him and toward the door.

The way she says it tells him this is the only thing she is willing to ask right now. He responds, knowing that when they play again it will be his turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments, thoughts, and encouragement on the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this next addition to the story!


	5. Chapter 5

The first night they spend together Byleth wakes up screaming. She had fallen asleep an hour or so before, reading for a while as Claude finished paperwork and responded to letters. He never required much sleep and often found late nights to be the best time for uninterrupted work. He hears her scream and turns immediately, watching as she sits straight up in the bedroll, wide-eyed and gasping for air. Byleth looks disoriented as her eyes wander frantically around the space. 

Claude kneels on the bedroll beside her. Her chest is heaving with rapid breaths, a light sheen of sweat across her brow. She’s obviously woken up from a terrible dream and Claude isn’t sure what he should do. She’s talking to herself.

“I killed Lorenz,” she says, clear as a bell, and Claude is sure he misheard. “I had to the first time. I took it back but I can still see him dying.” 

Very little of what she’s saying makes sense and her face is paler than usual. He keeps his tone even and calm. “Lorenz is in Fhirdiad. We saw him yesterday.”

She starts at the sound of Claude’s voice, blinking rapidly. Her eyes meet his as she brings a hand up to his face, laying her palm against his cheek. It’s cool to the touch and he leans into it.

“Claude?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

“It was real,” she whispers. “I wish it wasn’t.” 

Her words are too clear to be said out of confusion but Claude knows that Lorenz is alive. Her hand is still resting on his face so he gently wraps his fingers around her wrist. He finds her pulse to be much slower than what he expected given her current state. 

He decides to err on the side of caution and asks her if she wants to talk about it. Byleth stares back at him with an intensity in her eyes that he’s rarely seen though he’s not sure what she’s looking for. This time Claude knows better than to try one of his easy fake smiles so he waits, not wanting to close off the conversation before it begins. 

Byleth pulls her hand away from his face and sits forward in her bedroll so that she’s closer to him, watching carefully as she speaks.

“Are you truly this kind?” 

Claude jerks back in surprise. It isn’t the usual thing people accuse him of being. “What?”   
  
Byleth crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re always asking me if I want to talk. I don’t understand why.” 

“Is that a trick question?” He coughs out a laugh as he runs a hand through his hair. 

This scheme has brought so many strange things along with it. Has Byleth really been so closed off that she questions his sincerity? When was the last time anyone asked how she was doing? 

Byleth sighs as she falls back on the bedroll, hair spread out across the pillow like a wave. He eases himself down on the bedroll next to her, laying on his side to prop his face up on his hand so that he can look at her when he speaks. Claude is captivated by this version of her that he’s certain no one else has seen.

“Honestly? When you were a professor it was different. Now we’ve all grown up a bit and things have changed,” he says. 

Byleth rolls toward him but keeps her head on the pillow, avoiding his eyes. Claude knows something must be resonating so he continues.

“I know that I’ve roped you into this scheme and we’re spending a lot of time together but that doesn’t mean it’s all fake. Curiosity and kindness are two sides of the same coin.” 

He lays his head down on his own pillow so that they are closer still and lowers his voice. “And I know what it’s like to be lonely.” 

It’s not an admission he’s made aloud before. Claude has always hidden behind his charm and cleverness. Until the Officer’s Academy he never had the opportunity to make real friends, and even then he wasn’t able to trust them with everything. Now he finds himself sharing things with Byleth that he’d never intended to share with anyone.

“I want to tell you something,” Byleth says, as though she’s pulling thoughts directly from his own mind. 

“You can tell me anything.” Claude says it without thinking, the lack of hesitation taking him by surprise. 

There is a part of him that wants to hear all of her secrets. He ignores the fluttering in his stomach as Byleth inches closer to him, preparing to share this precious glimpse into her inner world. The light in the tent is dimming as the candle on his desk burns down and the only sound they hear is the wind rustling the trees outside. He pushes away unbidden thoughts of how intimate this is; whispering secrets to one another in the earliest hours of the morning.

“I was born at the monastery. Rhea was there when my mother gave birth. When she died,” Byleth whispers. 

Claude is still as stone, not daring to move lest he shatter this fragile atmosphere. These little known things are precious and Claude wants to hold onto them.

“Rhea did something to me as a baby. She said it saved my life but my father didn’t trust her. He took me away after that.” 

“What did she do?” Claude dares to ask. 

“My heart doesn’t beat. It hasn’t since I was born.” 

Byleth reaches out for Claude’s hand and pulls it toward her chest, pressing it over the place of her heart. He ignores his chest’s own rapid pace as he feels for the beat that should rest under the thin layer of Byleth’s nightclothes. Even after a few moments he feels absolutely nothing. 

“How is this possible?”

“My father never found out and I never had the chance to ask.” 

Pieces of information started fitting themselves together. Jeralt was so hesitant to come back to the monastery the night he and Byleth saved the house leaders. Alois practically dragged them back there. Byleth had been favoured by Rhea the moment she stepped foot in Garreg Mach even though they had apparently never met. Rhea was always watching Byleth, her gaze obsessive in its frequency.

Claude gently pulls his hand away and brings Byleth’s with it, threading their fingers together and resting their hands in the small space between them. This feels too important to let go of just yet.

“I always thought it was strange that Rhea made you a professor. It makes sense now,” Claude says quietly. “She needed a reason for you to stay at the monastery.”

Byleth looks conflicted for a few moments and Claude waits patiently. He has learned that in spite of her calm outward appearance there is always more beneath the surface. Where most might find the silence uncomfortable, Byleth finds it encouraging. 

“There’s something else,” she whispers. 

Claude gently squeezes her hand in response to the edge he hears in her voice. He can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness he hears. Maybe both. 

“It connected me to Sothis. I could see her, talk to her. The first time it happened was the day I met you.” 

Claude’s eyes go wide at the admission, thinking back to that day in the woods near Remire and the expressionless mercenary who cut down bandits with calculating efficiency. Now, after knowing her for this long, it’s hard to believe that the mercenary he met and the woman in front of him are one and the same. 

He remembers the question he wanted to ask earlier that day. “When you said you were asleep before, you meant before _Sothis_?” 

“She told me it was her fault I couldn’t feel things the same way most people do. She was sleeping within me before that day. After she woke up I started feeling things slowly at first. Now it feels like it’s happening all at once.” 

Claude hums thoughtfully as he thinks about how expressive Byleth has been since his return to Fódlan. It makes sense she’s had such strong reactions to things she hasn’t had to manage before and her panic attack at dinner adds up. Claude gets the impression no one has noticed these changes or had not thought to ask. Maybe it was too subtle to see up close. The war took its toll on everyone and though Byleth was asleep for five years it didn’t make her immune to the impact. By all accounts the last year of the war was the most difficult and she was at the centre of it. 

It seems the rumours about her being blessed by the goddess were somewhat true, though not in the way people imagined. That blessing gave her abilities and a talent in magic but it took away her previous advantage of being immune to emotions. During the war they called him the Master Tactician, practising the cold calculus of war. If only that were true. He pushes away the thought.

“Did your hair and eyes change colour because of Sothis too?”

Byleth lets go of Claude’s hand, reaching up to thread her fingers through her hair, and he momentarily regrets his decision to ask about it. 

“When Solon cursed me Sothis fused herself with me. It gave me the power to escape but she told me I wouldn’t be able to speak to her anymore. I thought I heard her once, when I was waking up after the invasion. Then she was gone and I wondered if I imagined it.” 

Claude has always known Byleth was special in an indescribable kind of way. As a student his mind made her into this powerful, mysterious force and he felt jealous that she had chosen another house leader over him. He thought to use her for her strength and power alone, as though she were immune to all of his own weaknesses. At the root of it all she was as human as him, fallible and susceptible to all the world had to offer. And, in a way, she was choosing him now which he knew counted for something. 

“I feel honoured that you shared all of that with me,” he says. 

Byleth looks away as she mumbles, “I like talking to you.” 

Claude gives a small honest smile, feeling a little flushed. He takes a moment to properly climb into his bedroll, resettling on his side so that he’s facing Byleth again. She snuggles further into her own as she prepares to go back to sleep. Claude chances reaching out his hand between them. Byleth smiles sheepishly as she fits it into her own.

Claude tells himself that he knows the difference between this budding friendship and the scheme they’re maintaining. They are still holding onto one another as they drift to sleep. 

When Claude wakes a few hours later Byleth’s face is pressed to his chest and his arm is wrapped around her. Claude is hesitant to wake her, having seen the fallout of her nightmares and wondering how often she sleeps well. He can hear the sounds of morning outside as soldiers laugh and talk while tents are taken down. The smells of tea and smoked meats are strong and he knows it means they will be departing camp soon. Claude decides he can wait a few more moments and closes his eyes, drifting off again.

He doesn’t hear Hilda enter until she calls his name from the foot of his bedroll. She sounds annoyed, but it’s not as though Hilda found them in a compromising position. They are fully covered and technically slept separately if you count the layers of fabric between them. 

“Morning Hil.” He says it casually, as though this is an absolutely normal way to be found in the morning with someone you’re only pretending to be engaged to. 

Byleth sleepily wiggles away from Claude’s chest, waking with a yawn. She sits up slowly and stretches as she says good morning to Hilda. 

“We’ve been waiting for you but no one wanted to come and interrupt. After a while I volunteered and here I find you two having a sleep-in. I thought you’d be planning or researching or something,” Hilda dramatically waves her hands in the air. “Whatever it is you do.” 

“We stayed up late,” Byleth says plainly and Hilda’s eyes narrow for the briefest moment. 

Claude winces, knowing how that must sound given the way she found them. He hazards a glance at Hilda and she gives him a look that tells him he’s going to catch hell later. She’d already given him one warning about minding his behaviour, as though Hilda thinks he’s prone to a silly infatuation. Mercifully she says nothing in front of Byleth. 

***

In spite of the fact that they are heading toward the monastery Byleth feels better than she has in a long time. The travelling is energizing—even if she was afraid of flying at first—as the Almyrans are fun, rowdy companions. Each time they stop to make camp things come alive. The fireside gatherings often continuing well into the night and they tend to leave later in the morning as a result. It makes for slower travelling overall, extending their trip by a few days. Byleth hardly minds.

She continues flying with Claude on Chrom and is slowly learning the basics. Claude jokes that soon she will be good enough to get a wyvern of her own but Byleth secretly hopes he isn’t serious. She revels in that time they spend together, talking, laughing, or observing the scenery below in comfortable silence.

Evenings at camp are spent eating fire-roasted food, playing card games, drinking, and telling stories. Byleth is appreciative of the people who came along for the trip, often sparring with Leonie, drinking tea with Hilda, or watching Linhardt and Lysithea argue about magic. Sylvain and Claude play chess, which they apparently did often as students, and Byleth entertains herself by watching. She was never one for strategy games but she enjoys shooting each of them a look when they make a decision and smiling when they start second guessing. Sylvain is convinced she’s always on Claude’s side as her admonishment seems to have little effect on Claude’s choices. 

When they finally retire for the night she and Claude take time for themselves. Byleth writes in her journal or reads while Claude writes letters, muttering quietly to himself in Almyran. She’s started to enjoy hearing the tenor of his voice though she doesn’t understand anything he says. Sometimes Nader will stop in to chat with them and provide Claude with updates. Eventually they both decide it is time to sleep late into the night when the rest of camp is silent. 

They have started an informal routine where they talk for a while in their bedrolls, playing the game where they trade answer for answer. It has been lighter than the first night, asking silly inconsequential questions until they fall asleep. Byleth does not have many dreams and more often than not she wakes up in Claude’s arms or curled against his back. 

She felt lighter for sharing the truth about her birth with Claude. She’s never spoken to anyone about it save for Sothis and Byleth isn’t sure if that counts. She held back from telling him about her ability to turn back time, especially given she has not needed to use it since Edelgard’s defeat. Byleth hopes she will never have occasion to use it again.

Claude bumps Byleth’s shoulder with his own and she stops wandering through her thoughts. She comes back to the present, sitting fireside in the middle of their camp.

“You’re pretty introspective tonight.”

She knows this is becoming more than just a scheme for her though she is unwilling to acknowledge it fully. They’ve only been travelling together for a week. Claude is still the king of Almyra and will be returning home and Byleth intends to abdicate from her role as Archbishop. Things will change after they find the answers they seek. She knows why she needs answers from Rhea but hasn’t quite figured out Claude’s motivation. He says it’s curiosity and respectfully fulfilling Hubert’s last wishes but it feels like there has to be more to it.

“It’s our last night of travelling,” Byleth replies, frowning.

“Cheer up professor. Tomorrow night we’ll get to sleep in proper beds at the monastery,” Linhardt yawns at her from across the fire. 

Byleth tenses for a moment, remembering that Seteth had written months ago about having her room prepared. She was to inherit the Archbishop’s quarters and it makes her stomach turn. 

Claude must sense she’s feeling off, reaching his arm up so Byleth can cuddle into his side if she chooses. She smiles, moving to lean back against his chest as he brings his arm down around her. Byleth threads her fingers through the hand he rests on her leg. 

Hilda raises an eyebrow and Byleth barely catches it in the flickering light of the fire. When Hilda found them in the morning at the beginning of their trip she said Byleth and Claude should not feel the need to be in character _all_ the time. Claude laughed it off and told Hilda there was nothing to worry about. The close proximity of travelling made them more prone to physical affection and Byleth often noticed others engaging in similar behaviour. In fact Sylvain tended to kiss everyone on the cheek and Claude frequently offered hugs or a friendly squeeze on the shoulder.

“You know, you two are actually pretty cute together,” Leonie says as she sits fletching arrows beside a now dozing Linhardt. 

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” Claude laughs. “I’m offended. Individually we’re both pretty cute.” 

Sylvain is laying down with his head resting on Hilda’s lap and feels the need to chime in. “I don’t know how you got so lucky von Riegan. The professor is way out of your league.” 

“Call me Byleth. I’m not your professor anymore.” 

It is something Byleth has repeated multiple times on this trip but no one has taken to it like Claude. Most of them still awkwardly fumble her name or call her professor accidentally. 

Leonie sets aside her full quiver and moves toward the fire. “I’m trying but it’s still weird.” 

“Old habits,” Sylvain shrugs.

“I don’t know Sylvie, you’ve broken a lot of other old habits,” Hilda teases. 

“Like what?” 

“Well you’ve definitely given up what Dimitri kindly called _skirt chasing_.” 

Byleth noticed during the war that Sylvain seemed to have matured a bit when it came to his reckless relationships. Unfortunately he remained careless on the battlefield, often putting himself in dangerous situations for the sake of others. She worried about his willingness to be so cavalier with his life. Byleth tried to keep Sylvain in strategic formations with Felix, who was the only one that ever stood a chance of talking sense into Sylvain.

The rest of the group chimes in with their own laughs and comments about Sylvain’s old habits and he sits up with his hands raised to quiet them.

Sylvain laughs, putting on his most charming voice. He doesn’t deny what Hilda says but tries to deflect. “Aww Hilda, I can chase you if you want.” 

Hilda rolls her eyes at him. “I know I’m not your type.” 

“A beautiful lady like yourself? C’mon.” 

“Oh please. Not even I can compete with a certain brooding swordsman-turned-duke,” Hilda smiles sweetly.

Poor Sylvain’s face goes nearly as red as his hair and for once he can’t seem to find anything to say. Byleth feels Claude laugh behind her and turns to look at him. _Felix?_ she mouths silently, to which Claude only laughs harder.

“How long have you known?” Sylvain finally stammers.

“Probably longer than you, Gautier,” Claude calls out to Sylvain. “You’ll be happy to know we're pretty sure the feelings are mutual.” 

Sylvain’s mouth falls open with shock as he tries to stammer out a response. 

“Honestly I don’t know where any of you would be without me,” Hilda says, patting Sylvain on the head. 

“I didn’t have any idea either.” Byleth tries to console him. 

Sylvain groans as his face falls forward into his hands. “No offence prof—Byleth, but that doesn’t make me feel better. You tend to be a bit oblivious when it comes to this stuff.” 

“What stuff?”

“Exactly my point.” 

Byleth turns to look at Claude for reassurance. “I’m not oblivious, am I?” 

This only makes them all laugh more. Even Claude has a big smile on his face.

“That’s just what they think,” he winks. Then, moving closer he says, “I know you well enough to know better.” 

The genuine sound of his words lights a spark in Byleth’s chest. Their faces are so close together that Byleth imagines kissing him, daring herself to wonder for a moment what it might feel like. Claude does not pull away from her and she can feel his heart beating faster from where her hand rests on his chest.

Leonie lets out a wolf whistle and the spell is broken as Byleth and Claude return to their friends. 

“Don’t hold back on our account,” Leonie teases. “We know you like each other.” 

Byleth feels her face grow hot as she realizes how obvious that must have been. Claude certainly knows she’s not that good at acting.

“I dunno Leonie, we haven’t seen them kiss once and we’ve been travelling for almost a week,” Sylvain teases, likely happy to shift the attention off of himself. “If I was Claude I’d be kissing the professor all the time.” 

“Oh Sylvain, don’t be ridiculous,” Hilda chides him. “They don’t need to kiss to prove anything to you.” 

She subtly tries to give Byleth and Claude a look that tells them to change the subject. Byleth knows Hilda is giving them an out, but they knew something like this might happen eventually. They discussed it briefly on the first night of the trip though they had not set any specific ground rules. Byleth turns back to Claude who is staring at her intently as he waits for her to make a decision, likely anticipating a deflection or some admonishment for Sylvain.

She knows she should probably play it off with a joke or tell them it’s none of their business but there’s a part of her that wants to kiss Claude. She feels a strange sensation in her stomach and her mouth moves faster than her mind. 

“One kiss can’t hurt,” Byleth shrugs. 

Claude’s eyes widen briefly in surprise before he closes the space between them to place a gentle kiss on Byleth’s forehead. Leave it to Claude to be clever. It should be an inconsequential press of his lips to her skin yet it leaves Byleth wanting. 

“That’s it?” 

Byleth is surprised when the words fall from her mouth, unsure where this sudden boldness has come from. Her eyes go wide as she looks at Claude, ready to salvage the situation with an apology if needed. She opens her mouth to speak and is quickly silenced with Claude’s own. 

It is better than she imagined. Byleth unravels at the feeling of him, the headiness of it overtaking her. She wishes she could stop time to savour this moment, knowing it will be over all too quickly. She kisses him back, willing him to stay for as long as he can. She’s sighing into Claude’s mouth as he pulls her onto his lap and something that should have been over in a moment is stretching into eternity. 

Byleth is too caught up in the feeling of this to think about the consequences and she knows she should stop but she can’t seem to pull away. She wraps a hand around Claude’s neck and threads her fingers into his hair, holding him closer as she deepens the kiss. 

“I take it back. You’ve made your point,” Sylvain calls out. 

Byleth stills as she remembers where they are and how this moment came to be. She opens her eyes and sees Claude staring back at her with a dazed expression. Maybe she should consider rewinding time but she doesn’t think she can live with the memory of this kiss without Claude knowing that it happened.

Byleth slowly pulls herself off of Claude’s lap and slides back into the space beside him. Her entire body is alight with heat and she sits in stunned silence.

Claude has recovered enough to speak, though his voice sounds huskier than usual. “You should know better than to give Byleth a challenge.”

“Lesson learned,” Sylvain chuckles as he stands up to stretch. “On that note, I think I’ll retire for the night.”

Hilda quickly joins him. “Walk me to my tent. It’s too dark.”

Leonie looks down at Linhardt, who has long since fallen asleep. “I’m going to drag Lin to his tent and then I’ll hit the hay too.” 

“Thanks Leonie. We’ll take care of the fire,” Claude says. 

“Don’t stay up too late you two,” Hilda calls. She shoots Claude a look that Byleth doesn’t quite catch.

They all say rounds of goodnight and after few moments Byleth and Claude are left alone. Byleth stays curled into Claude’s side even though everyone else has left, telling herself it’s because they are still sitting in the middle of camp and someone could be watching. 

Neither of them speak, listening to the sound of the fire burning and the thick layer of nighttime surrounding them. Eventually the fire dies down to smouldering embers in front of them and Claude makes the move to get up and smother it. Byleth stands with him and they silently make their way back to their tent for the last night. 

Claude is unusually quiet as they settle into their evening routine, sitting down at his desk without a word and pulling off his gloves to get started on his letters. Byleth changes into her sleeping clothes and sinks into her bedroll with her father’s journal. She is distracted, rereading the same entry over many times while she studies the back of Claude’s head and the curve of his shoulders. 

The scratching sound of quill to parchment eventually stops and Claude climbs into his own bedroll. Byleth wonders if the kiss was a misstep, thrown off by his strange silence. She wonders if this will continue, anticipating that he will go to sleep with his back quietly turned. Instead he lays down facing her as he always does and she mirrors him, hoping they will finally speak and she can fix this. 

“About tonight,” he starts, his voice tentative. 

Claude is searching her face, staring at her without saying anything and Byleth's tongue feels thick in her mouth. She waits for him to speak, testing the limits of her own patience. After a few agonizing moments of silence he continues, his voice lighter than it was before. 

“You’re better at this than I thought.” 

Byleth is surprised by the admission. “Kissing?” 

Claude blanches. “What? No—I mean, yes that was great,” he sighs, shaking his head. “What I meant was you’re a better actor than I thought.”

Her chest tightens as she thinks about how she should respond to that. Byleth could admit to Claude she wasn’t actually acting but that might be inappropriate. This isn’t supposed to be real and it could be a transgression against their growing friendship. Or she could tell him she was acting but that would be a lie and she knows she can’t do that to Claude. 

Byleth realizes she needs to be better at separating their friendship from the fake engagement scheme. Once they reach the monastery they’ll have more time apart and they can focus on the work they need to do to find Those Who Slither in the Dark. Byleth tells herself to play this off and worry about it later.

“Thank you, I think?” Byleth says quietly. “It seems like it was a bit too much.” 

“I think it helped with the cover story. A kiss like that is pretty suggestive.” 

Claude is giving her a strange look and Byleth is too exhausted by the storm of feelings raging within her body to ask about it. She can tell that he wants her to continue the conversation, but she’s a coward when it comes to confronting her feelings.

“Sleep well Claude.” 

She reaches for his hand and finds it resting between them like he was waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and encouragement. I've really appreciated hearing all of your thoughts. I agonized over this chapter and I hope that it turned out alright!


	6. Chapter 6

Seeing the monastery from the sky makes it look less imposing, though it does not give Byleth much relief. She can empathize with how her father felt about being forced to return after twenty years. The building itself is a beautiful stone giant but the organization it houses is an ugly, disconcerting thing. She has not returned since the end of the war, avoiding her position as Archbishop at all costs. Seteth has been running the church in her absence and Byleth is unsure why he could not assume the position on a permanent basis. 

Their arrival causes a stir as the group of wyverns and pegasi land in the monastery courtyard. No one has seen such a gathering of Almyrans this far from the border and the merchants and church folk alike crowd together to watch them land. 

Claude steps down first, extending his hand to Byleth. She is dizzy from the proximity of his body during their flight. She has not been able to stop thinking about the kiss they shared the night before. Despite the awkwardness of their conversation after, everything felt normal between them this morning. 

Seteth descends the steps of the entrance hall with Flayn following quickly behind him. Byleth always liked Seteth in spite of how particular he could be at times. He cared deeply for the monastery and the students of the officers academy, and he was fiercely protective of his daughter—something Byleth could appreciate. 

“Archbishop,” Seteth greets her with a hug before turning to bow to Claude. “Your majesty, welcome.” 

“Seteth,” Claude said warmly, “I appreciate the welcome but please call me Claude.” 

Byleth should have known that word would travel from Fhirdiad after Claude’s grand reveal before Dimitri’s coronation. She wonders if Seteth has also heard about their engagement. 

“Please join me upstairs in my office for tea. It seems we have much to discuss.” He shoots her a look that tells her he absolutely heard the news. 

_Well, shit_ , Byleth thinks as they walk through the entrance hall. 

Flayn is happily chatting with Claude the entire way which gives Byleth a few moments to collect her thoughts. She reminds herself she has not been at the monastery for a year and things have been fine. There’s no reason for her to be Archbishop and nothing requires her to remain in the position. She’s merely been a figurehead for the past year. 

A tray of tea and treats is waiting as promised. Seteth begins serving them while Flayn asks about their journey and Byleth’s time away in Fhirdiad. Claude is making easy conversation, his usual laid back demeanour putting everyone at ease. Byleth tries to channel his energy and remain calm, waiting for Seteth to show his hand first. 

“Your quarters have been prepared, Archbishop. I’ll have your things moved there immediately,” he begins. Passively he adds, “I can have his majesty’s things moved there as well if you would like?” 

Byleth hears the intonation at the end of that sentence and knows this is a test. Seteth could have asked them directly about the engagement, yet given his approach Byleth thinks he must doubt its sincerity. He might think it some kind of political arrangement spurred by Claude. It was no secret during the academy days Seteth found the Golden Deer house leader to be no small nuisance. Claude, for his part, seemed to enjoy the prestige and contributed a significant number of pranks to increase his renown. 

“Unless you think it would be untoward given we’re not yet married,” Byleth replies. In the periphery she sees Claude smirking, no doubt impressed she challenged Seteth. “And please call me Byleth.” 

Seteth does little to hide his surprise. “The rumours are true then?”

Claude takes Byleth’s hand for the benefit of their audience. “Word travels fast,” he laughs. 

Flayn gives an excited squeal and gushes her congratulations. Seteth looks far less pleased.  
  
“An engagement between the Archbishop of Fódlan and the King of Almyra could hardly go unnoticed,” he chides. “You should have conferred with me first.” 

Byleth tenses. “I hardly need permission to get married. You’re not my father.”

Seteth frowns at the sharpness of her tone and for a moment she feels bad. She isn’t handling this as well as she should. Thankfully Claude interjects. 

“We wanted to tell you the news in person. I know our engagement is a little unorthodox but,” he pauses, looking over at Byleth with a fondness in his eyes that she wishes were real, “then again so is our relationship.” 

“There are some who find it concerning for Almyra to have such influence,” Seteth sighs. “This is why there has never been an Archbishop who has married.” 

Byleth steels herself for the moment that will inevitably follow her next statement. “I intend to abdicate my position when we leave for Almyra.” 

Claude gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, remaining silent as they wait for Seteth to react. Seteth is silent for a few moments, taking a sip of his tea before carefully setting it back down.His face betrays nothing of the feelings underneath and when he speaks it is with his usual moderate tone.

“It is your decision, of course. I would remind you Lady Rhea herself entrusted this position to you and that is no small thing.”

“I’m glad to know I apparently have a choice,” Byleth mutters. She rubs a hand over her face and tries to keep her own voice even as she continues. “Rhea chose me for the wrong reasons and we both know it.” 

Seteth’s eyes move between Flayn and Claude, a subtle gesture of concern.

“I’ve told Claude everything that I know,” Byleth says pointedly. 

Seteth turns to Flayn and dismisses her from his office. She protests at first, wanting to stay, but eventually concedes when Seteth gives her a look. She pouts as she tells them all she will see them at dinner. After Flayn has left the room Byleth refocuses her attention on Seteth. She feels more at ease now that he is alone and she has Claude for support. 

“I’ve told you before that I only know bits and pieces. Hardly enough to give you any real answers,” Seteth says carefully. 

“I didn’t have the chance to speak to her after Enbarr. She disappeared and no one has seen her but I need to talk to her.”

Seteth is silent, regarding her with a careful gaze. Byleth knows he won’t give this information up easily. Rhea has many secrets and Byleth knows Seteth has a few of his own.

“I want the truth about what I am. About what she did to me as a baby.”

“The truth can be a difficult thing, Byleth.” 

“I’m well versed in _difficult things_ ,” she snaps, the fury in her voice cold and sharp.

Seteth gives her a pitying look. She knows he was subject to Rhea’s commands but certainly he must have had some ability to act for himself. She feels Claude’s thumb tracing circles on the back her hand and takes a deep breath. 

“I need to know where she is, Seteth.” Byleth’s voice is careful, pleading. 

Seteth shakes his head. “I am sorry Byleth, truly. She has not contacted me.”

“Will you tell me if she does?” 

Seteth reluctantly agrees and the three of them continue with their tea. Seteth asks polite questions about the state of affairs in Almyra and the upcoming wedding. Claude diligently carries the majority of the conversation, addressing questions about their relationship with vague answers.

Eventually Byleth tells them she’s tired from travel and Seteth knowingly takes the opportunity to end the conversation. Claude continues holding Byleth’s hand as they leave Seteth’s office and she tells herself it doesn’t mean anything. They travel the short distance to the stairs leading to Rhea’s quarters on the third floor. 

Byleth stops in the hall outside the imposing doors. She cannot bring herself to open them, as if doing so means she will accept everything that goes with the station of this room. Claude knowingly moves away from the door and pulls Byleth with him to the large terrace at the end of the hall. She feels relief in the open air, taking deep breaths as she leans forward against the stone railing. 

Claude mirrors the position next to her, close enough that their shoulders touch. It makes Byleth happy that he is so comfortable being around her as nearly everyone has always kept their distance. She built strong friendships with her former students but this feels different. A comfortable kind of equilibrium. 

“It’s strange being back here,” Claude says, his words pulling Byleth out of her private retreat.

Byleth feels as though she has returned to the monastery all too soon, forgetting that Claude has not been back since Edelgard’s invasion more than half a decade ago. It must feel strange for him in a different way than Byleth. She experienced less of the war than Claude but her wounds ran deep. 

Byleth wonders for a moment if she could have changed things by choosing to lead a different house. Maybe if she had chosen the Black Eagles perhaps Byleth could have helped Edelgard find the right path, or would have figured out her plans sooner. If she had chosen Claude she imagines they would have been a good team; she would not have been expected to fix everything. There is a nagging thought in the back of her mind that Dimitri would not have survived had she not chosen him. 

Claude stands up, turning to lean with his back against the stone. “I have a question for you.” 

Byleth gives a small smile, pushing away her thoughts as she straightens up to face him. “I’ll trade you.”

Claude averts his eyes for a moment, as though he’s collecting himself, which seems strange for a man who is usually so confident. “Why did you choose the Blue Lions?” 

Byleth starts at the question, giving Claude a surprised look, and he raises his eyebrow with a silent question. 

“It feels like you have this strange ability to read my thoughts,” Byleth admits. “You always seem to know.”

Claude smirks at this. “What were you thinking about?” 

“I was wondering if my decision changed anything. If it would have mattered which house I chose.” 

Claude is silent for a few moments and Byleth knows he’s waiting for her to speak. He’s done this countless times in the week they’ve spent together and she marvels at his patience. It is as though time stops around them and there is nothing in the world that is more important than what Byleth might say. She has found herself opening up to him more than she has to anyone else. Perhaps she should not be so careless with her secrets yet something about Claude makes her trust him implicitly. 

“I chose to lead the Blue Lions because I was wary of Dimitri. I could sense that darkness and I wanted to help him. You and Edelgard seemed much more capable.”

Claude gives a halfhearted laugh. “My charm and good looks couldn’t sway you, huh?” 

Byleth realizes that he is disappointed, reaching for the mask he likes to wear and retreating from her. “I won’t deny that you’re handsome,” Byleth says honestly. She sees Claude’s surprise at the compliment. “But there was always something about your smile that worried me.” 

“My smile?”

He’s wearing it now though the edges of it are not as sharp as usual. Perhaps it's because she’s pointed it out. 

“That fake one you like to use. It never reaches your eyes.”

Claude’s face falls and his eyes go wide with disbelief. It’s as though no one has ever seen through this part of him. Byleth saw it the moment they met. 

“It’s fine when it’s directed at others.” She dares to reach a hand to his face, her thumb brushing over the corner of his lips. “But I like it when I get to see the real one.”

“Me too,” he breathes.

His eyes are blazing back at her and Byleth doesn’t think she can look at them much longer before doing something impulsive. She removes her hand and turns away, leaning on the stone as she tries to catch her breath. There’s a fluttering in her stomach she can’t seem to escape when she’s near Claude. She’s bolder with him.

Time lapses into a comfortable silence as they survey the grounds below. Byleth should find comfort in the familiarity of the place; instead she finds it stifling. 

“You owe me a question,” Claude says eventually. 

She wants to ask him silly things like if he wants to kiss her again or if she’s imagining the chemistry between them. She won’t. Instead she asks something safer, staying on the topic they were discussing earlier.

“If I had chosen the Golden Deer what would you have done differently?” 

Claude pushes away from the railing, standing up and stretching his arms behind his head before they settle back at his side.

“That’s a big question,” he deflects. 

“Then hopefully you have a big answer,” she teases. 

Claude sends her a smirk that makes her breath hitch but he chooses to answer the question.

“I came here because I wanted to tear down the walls that separated Almyra and Fódlan. When I got here and started learning about the church and the crest system I knew there was more that I wanted to do.” 

Byleth moves toward him, compelled by the ambition she hears in his voice. She admires the fire in his eyes when he’s speaking about something he truly cares about.

“Dimitri is working toward understanding and tolerance but the old structure remains firmly in place. Nearly every crested noble I knew at the Officer’s Academy inherited their family titles or assumed them early because of the king’s influence. There’s a new Duke Aeigir and a new Count Gloucester and a new Duke Fraldarius. I don’t see people like Dorothea, Leonie, or Ignatz gifted with titles or lands and they did just as much as anyone else during this war.” 

“Dimitri granted Ashe a title,” Byleth offers weakly. 

“Ashe was adopted into the nobility and I think he proves my point that you don’t need a crest to be an effective ruler. He’s an excellent lord because he understands the plight of common people. If not for Lord Lonato would Ashe have been given the opportunity?” 

Byleth doesn’t need to think about it; she already knows the answer to this question. Her silence is all the response Claude needs.

“Edelgard wasn’t wrong about the need to abolish the crest system and remove the church’s power. I disagree with her actions, not her intentions.” 

Byleth, captivated by Claude’s conviction, is stunned for a moment as Claude waits for her to respond. In truth she feels guilt. She spent the last year in Fhirdiad with Dimitri where she could have lobbied for changes. If she had returned to the monastery sooner and assumed the role of Archbishop she could have have worked to reform the church. She did neither of those things.

“You make me wish that I had done more. You’re so committed to what you want. So passionate about it,” Byleth says. 

“I care too much,” he says dismissively. 

She steps forward and places her hand on his chest, right over his heart. “That’s one of the things I like most about you.”

Claude stares down at her, obviously thrown by her words. He opens his mouth to say something before closing it just as quickly. Byleth wonders if she can use his own strategy against him and silently wait for him to speak again. 

An attendant interrupts to call them for dinner before she has a chance to try.

***

Seteth pulls Byleth away after dinner for church business, which he said pointedly while looking at Claude. In response Claude winked at Byleth and told her he’d see her in their room later, making Seteth scoff at the impropriety. It was nice to know that even after years of war and upheaval some things remained the same.

Although it’s been seven years since he’s been back Claude is not surprised to find the monastery unchanged. The Officer’s Academy is not yet ready to accept new students and the grounds are nearly empty. Claude finds his way back to the abandoned goddess tower easily enough. It remains empty and blissfully quiet. 

He was glad to have a bit of a reprieve. Travelling meant he and Byleth spent nearly all of their time together and Claude needs space to sort through what he was feeling. Her presence made him relax in a way he has never been able to before. She encouraged him to be more genuine and as a result he felt open and honest around her. He spent the past week telling himself he appreciates Byleth’s friendship; repeating it like a chant after every touch, every time she made him laugh.

The kiss they shared the night before was his undoing. The mere thought of her eyes fixed on his own sends a shiver down his spine. When she dared him to kiss her he honestly thought he was dreaming. Nothing could have prepared him for how it felt. Now each time he tells himself it’s just a friendship he knows he’s a liar. 

It only takes an hour or so before he hears footsteps and heavy breathing on the stairs. It took less time for Hilda to find him than he thought it would.

“Hey Hil,” he calls as she appears at the top of the stairs.

She groans when she sees him. “Couldn’t you have hidden in the greenhouse or somewhere with less stairs?” 

“I wanted to make you work for it.” 

Hilda smacks him on the shoulder before sliding down onto the floor. Claude takes a few more moments to stare out the window before he sinks down next to her. 

“I know what you’re going to say Hilda so you can spare me the lecture,” he says as he leans his head back against the wall. 

“Oh Claudey,” she sighs.

“What?” he opens one eye to peek over at her. Hilda is smiling smugly.

“Are you really going to make me pull it out of you?” She rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, closing his eyes again. Hilda plays some games better than he does and, as much as he admires it, he hates when it’s directed at him. 

“Have it your way,” she says. “Don’t forget I’ve been watching the two of you together for the entire week.” 

“It’s called acting, Hilda. I’m not bad at it. You didn’t even know I was Almyran and we were basically inseparable at the academy.”

“I think they call _that_ lying by omission.”

Claude brushes her off, opening his eyes in an attempt to restart the conversation. “We start investigating tomorrow and hopefully we’ll get a location for Those Who Slither in the Dark. Then we can start wrapping up this whole thing.”

Hilda throws her hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. “Forget about the creepy slither people for a minute and stop trying to deflect.”

Claude grumbles as he runs his hand through his hair. “The relationship is fake, Hilda.” 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be.” Hilda shifts so that she’s kneeling in front of him. “You may be a decent actor but Byleth isn’t. I saw that kiss.” 

“That wasn’t real either. I thought maybe it was, but later I told her she was a good actor and she agreed with me.” 

“Well she’s full of shit then,” Hilda says. “And you’re an idiot for believing her.”

Claude recalls the conversation with Byleth the night before. It definitely did not go over the way he wanted. He hadn’t really asked her anything and Byleth hadn’t really answered. Everything Claude felt told him that the kiss was real.

Claude stares back at Hilda defiantly. “Weren’t you the one telling me to be careful?”

“She was never interested in anybody during the war. She was always running around the monastery doing things and talking to people but she was emotionally distant. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

His anger deflates at the sound of Hilda’s sincerity. She’s only ever wanted what’s best for him. Claude can’t tell her that he knows why Byleth kept everyone at arm’s length or why she’s so resentful of her position. He hums an acknowledgement at what Hilda’s said. 

Hilda leans forward so that her hands rest on Claude’s knees, staring at him directly as she speaks. “You’re allowed to like her, Claude.” 

_I can’t,_ he thinks. He knows she intends to discover the truth about who she is and return to life as a mercenary. He doesn’t want to be like everyone else who has dictated the path of her life and pushed her into making decisions for their own benefit.

He barks out an empty laugh. “She’s abdicating her position as Archbishop. I’m pretty sure that means she wouldn’t want to be a queen.” 

Claude expects some kind of admonishment or snarky reply from Hilda. Instead she is the quietest, most serious version of herself as she speaks. 

“Maybe she wouldn’t want to be a queen. That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want to be with you.”   
  
He doesn’t know if he can give himself that kind of hope. 

Claude wakes up the next morning to an empty bed and for a moment he misses camping. He took for granted that his schedule would match with Byleth’s while they were at the monastery. Although she does not want the role of Archbishop he should have known she would not neglect it while they were here. Claude uses the solitary time to address some of his own concerns by reviewing reports and finishing overdue letters before heading to the hall for breakfast. 

He finds Lysithea and Linhardt eating something drenched in syrup and joins them for a while before Leonie ropes him into going to the training grounds to spar. Claudes’s not as out of shape as Leonie expects and they manage to go a fair number of rounds. She hasn’t lost her competitive edge and he doesn’t mind the workout so they end up passing time well into the afternoon.

Byleth is notably absent at dinner, as is Seteth, and Claude wonders if she’s been caught up with work all day. He takes a serving of food and joins a table where Hilda and Sylvain are seated, already mid-argument about how Sylvain should confess his love to Felix. Claude watches with an amused grin, happy Hilda has directed her energy elsewhere. Reflecting on the course of his day makes Claude realize how much he’s missed this part of his life. 

After leaving Derdriu he returned to Almyra to fight for the crown his father left behind, winning it through a series of trials and tests like those who came before him. Gaining the crown was one thing; keeping it was another. He created territorial agreements, increased regional trade, and worked on educational reforms. His parents moved out of the castle to their own villa as an indication that this is Khalid’s work and not his father’s before him. There have only been a few assassination attempts—far fewer than those he encountered as a child—and he garnered enough support from the people to be able to create new trade agreements with Fódlan. Despite his accomplishments he cannot deny that ruling is a lonesome occupation. 

The sun is skimming the edge of the horizon by the time Claude leaves his companions, waiting for the end of dinner service before heading back upstairs. He’s managed to smuggle out a few things from dinner just in case Byleth is hungry. Seteth’s office is silent when Claude passes it and he hopes she is already in their room so he won’t need to make a trip around the monastery. 

When he enters the room he finds Byleth waiting at the small sitting table laid with desserts and wine. She jumps up when he steps in, approaching him with an incandescent smile that makes his heart race. 

“What’s all this?” He’s feeling light-headed from the sudden attention. 

“A thank you.” 

Byleth takes his hand to pull him over to the table and directs him to sit down. She falls into the chair across from him. Claude doesn’t know that he’s ever seen her this excited. He’s entirely thrown off.

“You’re welcome, I guess?”

“I made an agreement with Seteth,” she says as she pours them each a glass of wine. “We don’t know how long our mystery will take exactly, so I told him so long as we are here ‘wedding planning,’ I’m going to work on reviewing church policies to see what kind of changes can be made. Seteth is a stickler for protocol but he’s not averse to change.” 

“That sounds amazing,” Claude replies genuinely, “but what does that have to do with me?” 

She leans forward over the table conspiratorially, as though whatever he’s done should be obvious. Claude leans in to meet her with a questioning look that lets her know he has no idea what she’s referring to. 

Her words come out in an excited rush. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said yesterday. I realized if I want things to be different I need to make them that way.” She takes a breath, then, “You inspired me.” 

She’s beaming and the way she looks at him hits Claude like an arrow in the chest. He knows this is an intimate wound his heart will never be able to recover from. 

He doesn’t ask her if she’s changed her mind about abdicating or if this means they’ll call off the scheme early. He knows she’s the kind of person he keeps her promises.

“I’m flattered but I don’t deserve any credit.” Her face falls at his words and Claude closes the short distance between their fingertips by taking her hands in his. “You’re amazing, Byleth. You try harder than anyone I’ve ever known. All you needed was to tell yourself that you could.” 

She squeezes his hands, giving him the same look she had the night before. 

In a flash he is rushing to kiss her, pulling her toward him as they make casualties of the wine bottle and the place settings that crash to the floor. They move away from the table in a mess of frantic limbs as their bodies collide— 

—and then Claude is shaking his head with a strange kind of deja vu, sitting firmly in place as Byleth gives his hands a squeeze and gets up from the table. She’s flushed, moving away from him to sit at the foot of the bed.

“It’s getting late. Maybe we should get some sleep?” Byleth asks, her voice faltering. “I was thinking we could spend some time in the library tomorrow to do some research.”

“Of course,” Claude stammers, shaking his head to rid it of the vivid image that was present only a heartbeat ago.


	7. Chapter 7

All of the warmth rushed out of the room in an instant. They quietly climbed into bed, said good night to one another, and rolled over to separate sides. Byleth stared up at the ceiling as she listened to Claude’s slow, steady breathing. He succumbed to sleep a while ago, leaving her to mull over the course of the evening’s events.

They had kissed again—or Byleth supposes they hadn’t now that she surreptitiously took it back. That was the problem with her abilities. There were so many things that happened that only she was able to know; fleeting moments she carried for the sake of others. This time she was selfish. 

Byleth couldn’t say who made the first move. They were holding hands across the table and a moment later they were all over each other. Byleth was pulling on Claude’s collar and his hand brushed across the skin of her lower back as he reached under the hem of her shirt. That was the moment she realized things were moving too quickly and she panicked, taking it back in an instant. 

She felt ill after using her divine pulse, no doubt a consequence of not having used it in so long. Or maybe it was the guilt of taking something like this away from Claude when any other person would have to confront their feelings and have a conversation. Byleth isn’t sure what exactly she is feeling. Although Claude is the only person she might feel comfortable talking to about her feelings, he is the last person she can talk to about _this_. 

The next morning things seem fine between them. They have breakfast together and fall back into easy conversation, largely driven by Claude. If he notices Byleth is standoffish he says nothing about it. They waste no time getting to the library, pleased to find it empty, and settle in for a morning of research.

They scour the shelves for mentions of Those Who Slither in the Dark, crest stones, and relics. Claude doesn’t have much else to narrow down the search. Byleth isn’t sure what she’s looking for and simply hoped she would know it when she saw it. They pile books between them and skim hundreds of pages of boring text. Hours pass and they are rewarded with very little. 

“I keep reading the same things over and over.” Byleth gives an exasperated sigh as she closes yet another record of the teachings of Seiros. “This can’t be all of it.” 

“I don’t know why I was so optimistic,” Claude says as he looks up from a particularly thick tome. “Did you know that Seteth removes books he deems inappropriate?” 

“Why would he do that?” 

“To maintain the church’s image. And to protect whatever it is they’re hiding.” 

Claude reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded piece of parchment. He opens it carefully and slides it across the table to Byleth. It is a drawing of a huge dragon labelled _the Immaculate One_ , but a particular cross section of the head shows a crest stone at its centre.

“Where did you get this?” Byleth asks, running her fingers over the drawing as she slowly follows the threads of her memory.

“Tomas the librarian gave this to me when I was a student. Before we knew that he was in disguise,” Claude grimaces, knowing how Byleth feels about the man who helped to kill her father. 

Byleth ignores the burning feeling in her stomach. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he want you to have this?” 

“He was the one that told me Seteth removed books from the library. He knew that I was interested in crests. If he was giving me this it must have been something that wouldn’t have incriminated his own people.” Claude takes the parchment back from her. “If Those Who Slither were helping the Empire then we know they were against the church. It has to connect somehow.”

Byleth’s head is spinning. She knows that she has seen that dragon before.

“This dragon appeared on the day of Edelgard’s invasion,” Byleth she recalls. Byleth remembers only bits and pieces of that battle. It ended with her falling into a deep chasm, only to be saved by the goddess with a five-year slumber. 

Claude runs a hand through his mess of hair and Byleth sees the telltale signs of something coming together in his mind. 

“I saw it take the field but I was too far away to get a good look at where it came from. Then the dragon disappeared and so had you. It was chaos after that.” 

His voice trails off as he says it and Byleth finds herself reaching out to him. Claude tentatively takes her hand and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

Memories find their way back to her slowly. “I was speaking to Rhea. She told me to take care of the people inside the monastery and I turned away for a moment. The dragon appeared right after, exactly where she had been.” 

Claude’s eyes go wide. “You think Rhea was the dragon?”

“I can’t be sure.” Byleth bites her lip.

Claude lets go of her hand as he begins rifling through his stack of books, muttering to himself as he tries to find something. 

“Looking for anything in particular? I may be able to help.” 

Byleth jumps at the sound of a voice beside her and looks up at the interloper. “Linhardt?” 

She hasn’t seen much of him over the past couple of days, but then she’s spent most of her time in Seteth’s office. It was unclear where Linhardt appeared from given the library was empty when they arrived. Knowing Linhardt he was probably been sleeping in a hidden corner somewhere for most of the day.

“You know I had wondered why I was included on this trip,” Linhardt muses in his trademark flat tone. “The professor has a good relationship with everyone so I ruled out that variable. Hilda and Sylvain are your closest friends Claude, and Lysithea and Leonie were both in the Golden Deer House. That makes me the odd one out.” 

“C’mon Linhardt, it’s not like that,” Claude says, leaning back in his chair.

Linhardt shakes his head. “Oh don’t misunderstand me, I don’t mind. It made me curious. I knew there had to be more to this whole thing.” He gestures between Byleth and Claude. 

Byleth panics, wondering how much Linhardt has been able to figure out. Does he know their relationship is fake? He’s never seemed the type to care much about what others are doing. She’s not sure what to say. 

“Should have known we couldn’t fool you,” Claude says breezily. Byleth’s eyes go wide as she stares at him. In return he gives her a subtle wink. “We needed time at the monastery to find what we were looking for. We were hoping you would help since it has to do with crests, but we didn’t want to bring you in until we knew more.” 

Linhardt’s eyes light up. “Why didn’t you say so? I’d be happy to help with research. Wedding planning is boring. No offence, of course.” 

“None taken.” Byleth shakes her head with relief. He doesn't care about their relationship at all. She should have known that would be his reaction.

“I might have some information that could help,” Linhardt adds. “When I was a student here the old librarian told me about a place called the Shadow Library. He said it’s where all the banned books end up.”

The librarian must have been leaving clues for the more curious students with the hope they might discover damning evidence about the church—though Byleth can’t imagine what they would have done with it. Seteth is particularly diligent in his tasks and she’s sure this knowledge would not have evaded him for long. 

“Where can we find said library?” Claude tries to maintain his casual facade but Byleth sees the way his eyes light up with interest.

Linhardt explains that it was under the monastery in a place known as Abyss, a secret underground city housed in a series of old tunnels and secret passages. Tomas had gone so far as to give Linhardt a lead on where to find the entrance and a list of books that would be of _particular interest_. Linhardt found the location of the entrance when he returned during the war but never had the opportunity to venture down. It appeared he could be rather industrious when he wanted to be.

Claude stands up from his chair and leaned across the table with excitement. Byleth can see him already forming a plan in his mind. 

“Linhardt, this is exactly what we needed. I’m so happy I could kiss you.” 

Linhardt rolls his eyes in response. “If you’re that pleased then I’ll ask you to kiss the professor instead.” 

Claude gives one of his fake laughs and Byleth frowns as she catches his eye. His mask remains in place as the conversation shifts to make plans for their expedition to Abyss the next evening. Linhardt suggests including Lysithea, given her knowledge of history, and Byleth agrees. With the plan set they decide to leave the library. 

Byleth makes a shameless excuse to skip out on dinner and Claude is stuck with Linhardt, leaving her with a bit of time to herself. She ignores the genuine concern she sees on Claude's face when she leaves, wondering if he will ask her about it later.

She walks to the greenhouse to pick an assortment of flowers before walking to the cemetery. It is empty and quiet as dusk descends. Byleth kneels down to carefully arrange the flowers at her parents’ gravestone. She used to find her father standing in front of the stone speaking with her mother. At the time Byleth didn’t know what it achieved but now she thinks she might be able to understand. 

She misses her father desperately. She had not fully appreciated their time together when he was alive, though Byleth knows that in large part that was due to her inability to feel things while Sothis slept within her. There were so many things she never had the opportunity to talk to him about. 

Byleth takes her mother’s ring off of her finger and holds it in her palm for closer examination. She wonders what her mother looked like. Jeralt’s diary did an excellent job of talking about Sitri’s beauty but did little to describe her features. Byleth wishes she had thought to ask her father about their relationship. She finds herself wondering what he said when he proposed or how long he and Sitri knew each other before they fell in love. When they decided to have a child. 

She reaches a hand toward their headstone. The moment her fingertips brush the indentations of her parents’ names, Byleth realizes she is terribly alone. It is a feeling she has been holding onto for a while, unsure how to examine and understand it. Byleth thought that since she was always surrounded by other people it was not possible for her to feel this way. In reality it had little to do with proximity. Loneliness was a steady undercurrent that swirled at your feet and tried to pull you under. Byleth knows she has been treading water for a long time.

“I wish I had the chance to see you together,” Byleth whispers as she runs her hand across the stone.

It is dark when she finally leaves them. Claude is writing letters when Byleth returns to their room and, though he gives her a quick hello when she enters, he doesn’t ask any questions. 

***

Byleth was trying to engage with him and pretend things were normal, but all of her actions lacked the warmth he had grown accustomed to over the past week. She was guarded. Claude decided to amp up the playfulness, falling into his easy routine of teasing and charm, which seemed to earn some disapproval. Having failed to make any progress he decided on a tactical retreat.

They left for Abyss after breakfast the following morning, making an excuse about spending the day in town to get some things for the wedding. Hilda stayed behind and was given the information about their location should they not return within the day. 

Tomas’ old instructions for Linhardt are clear enough that they find the entrance easily; an inconspicuous cave-in near the lower quarters that descends down under the monastery. Byleth is in front, carrying a torch to light their way. Linhardt is as energetic as Claude has ever seen him, practically bouncing as they descend further. The smell of mildew lingers in the air as they descend into the damp darkness. Lysithea is trying valiantly to pretend she isn’t frightened, though she screams and grabs Claude’s arm when a rat scurries across their path. 

Eventually the tunnel mercifully opens up into a large, cavernous space appearing to run along the underground aqueducts for the monastery. A large, straight-faced man stands at the opening and eyes them with suspicion. 

“We’re aren’t here to cause trouble,” Byleth says as she extends her hand and offers the guard a small coin purse. 

He takes it carefully, weighing it for a moment before tucking it away. He silently gestures for them to enter with a nod of his head and the four of them pass. 

They library is just inside the entrance. Claude wonders if this was the original purpose of the space, for if it had always been a library he imagines it would have been quite beautiful. Now the floor is riddled with discarded parchment and refuse and old wooden scaffolding looms above them. The main floor is not overly large so they decide to split up the titles on Linhardt’s list and search for them individually.

Byleth chooses the corner furthest away from Claude and he tries not to take it personally. He thinks this is what Hilda meant when she said Byleth has always been distant, but he can recognize when someone is intentionally putting up walls around themselves. He’s done it enough times to know. 

It is obvious the books lining the shelves have been unceremoniously discarded. The spines are dust-covered with faded titles underneath. Pages fall loose from old bindings as Claude pulls books free to inspect them. There does not seem to be any particular order to their organization so he sets to work painstakingly reading through each of the titles individually. 

It takes over an hour for the group to make their first discovery. Linhardt calls for them to come and look at it as he reads through the pages. It is a written account from a priest titled _The Truth of the Heroes Relics_.

Byleth does not choose to join them. She is reading a few loose pieces of parchment she seems to have pulled from one of the books. She hasn’t said anything yet so Claude assumes it isn’t relevant. 

“What does it say, Lin?” Lysithea is standing on her tiptoes trying to peek over his shoulder. 

“Not much of it is legible,” he frowns. “It references the material composition of the relics which is only marginally interesting. The text suggests there are other relics outside of the those left to the ten elites, and that they may not have been gifts from the goddess.” 

“Well that certainly contradicts the church’s teaching,” Claude offers.

Lysithea takes the book from Linhardt and flips through the pages he referenced. “It’s not much to go on.”

Linhardt shakes his head. “The author seems to have learned something but it is not included here. They say the goddess would not wish for them to learn more.” 

Lysithea snorts derisively. “If one assumes the teachings of Seiros have been adapted from legend, it is safe to say we should find information that will diverge from what we’ve been taught.”

Claude shrugs it off. “Guess we’ll have to keep looking.”

He takes the long way around the main floor so that he can walk past Byleth. She seems to absorbed in whatever she’s reading to notice. Claude resists reaching out to her to to get her attention. 

“Find anything interesting?”

Byleth startles, hugging the loose pages to her chest. She shakes her head. 

He watches her for a moment but she says nothing further. Claude turns away, resigning himself to returning to his corner of the library, before abruptly changing his mind. He moves back to her. 

“Have I done something wrong?” 

“What?” She seems thrown by this sudden shift in conversation.

Claude stretches his hands behind his head, trying to look more at ease than he feels. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“I see you every day,” she retorts. 

Claude looks over his shoulder at Lysithea and Linhardt who are huddled together over another text, too far away to overhear anything. Claude steps closer to Byleth, lowering his voice just in case. 

“You've been closed off since the other night. It felt like things were great one moment and then all of a sudden they weren’t.” He chances reaching a hand out and gently placing it on her shoulder. “I wanted to make sure that you’re alright.” 

“Everything is fine.” She stares back at him, unreadable. Her tone is hardly convincing. 

Claude draws his hand back and runs it through his hair. “Guess I have no choice but to take your word for it.” 

He accepts defeat and trails back to his corner of books. Eventually he finds a piece of correspondence signed Claudia, second daughter of house Riegan, and he pours over it in excruciating detail. It was referring to the division of House Daphnel after a dispute over inheritance, creating the Galatea territory that became part of Faerghus. Claude is astonished to be holding a piece of his ancestry in his hands, but it has little to do with their current concerns. He folds it up and tucks it inside his cloak. 

“We’re looking for a particular book on insects that we can’t seem to find,” Linhardt calls out. “We’re going to check the second floor.” 

“Be careful,” Claude offers over his shoulder.

Claude continues to work his way through the shelves, wishing he had known about this library sooner. He would have made more than a few trips down here during his time at the academy. His curiosity is building as he tries to put the disparate pieces of this puzzle together.

Claude has a sudden feeling of someone watching him, the hairs on his neck standing up. He grips the pommel of his short sword and turns his head in time to see Byleth jump in front of him, Sword of the Creator extending forward to strike at a figure in a dark robe. Claude feels the sensation of magic in the air before he sees a particularly strong bolt of electricity hit Byleth head on. She strikes back with a blast of fire and her target crumples in front of them. Byleth cries out as she grips her side and Claude moves to her immediately, easing her to the ground as he yells for Lysithea and Linhardt. 

“What the hell was that?” he says as he cradles Byleth toward him and checks her side. “Why did you jump in front of me?”

There’s a burn that Linhardt should be able to heal given his talent with white magic. Byleth murmurs something incoherent and when Claude looks down at her face he notices that she is pale and sweating. Her eyes are rolling back in her head and Claude shakes her to keep her awake. 

Lysithea and Linhardt quickly get to work healing Byleth’s wounds. Claude leaves them to it and scouts the library, still empty save for the dead interloper. He searches the body of the mage and finds little information. 

“The burn is gone but she seems pretty out of it. Linhardt is working on it,” Lysithea says as she approaches. 

He hears her gasp as she looks down at the mage. Claude glances up and sees the shocked expression that flashes across her face.

“What is it Lys?” 

“Linhardt told me you were doing crest research.” 

“We are,” Claude says, confused at the sudden shift in Lysithea's demeanour. 

Linhardt calls them back and Claude sees that Byleth is sitting up and holding her head with one hand. 

Lysithea’s brow furrows. “We’re going to talk about this later.” 

Claude simply nods, unsure what it is about this particular mage that has affected Lysithea. 

Byleth is staring at the ground determinedly before making a move to push herself up, swaying as she stands. Claude moves to her side and wraps an arm around her. 

“I’ve healed all of her wounds but something is off,” Linhardt tells Claude. 

“We’ve got to get back to the monastery. Do you think you two can manage warping us?” 

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Lysithea says sternly. “We’re going straight up.” 

Linhardt nods. “Let me get the books we’ve found and we can leave. Given this incident,” he inclines his head to the dead mage, “I don’t think we should linger.”

Byleth’s head falls onto Claude’s shoulder. “I’m fine,” she groans. “It’s just been a while since I’ve used it.” 

Claude assumes she means the Sword of the Creator, but if it has ever taken a toll on her to wield it this is the first he’s heard of it. Linhardt returns quickly and the four of them warp back up to the monastery grounds outside of the training yard. The sky is tinted with the telltale purple and orange haze of sunset and Claude realizes they were in Abyss far longer than he realized. 

“I don’t want to draw too much attention. Join us upstairs in an hour or so and we can review the books,” Claude quietly instructs his friends. 

He tells Byleth to hold onto him and adjusts his grip around her waist, pulling her in close so he can bear the brunt of her weight. He hopes anyone who sees them will assume they’re being particularly indiscreet in their affection and won’t ask questions.

Claude follows the familiar path between the training grounds and the classrooms. He hopes he can sneak inside the entrance hall and go up the stairs to the third floor. Byleth feels heavy at his side and if he had not witnessed her fighting, he may have assumed she was drunk. She grips his waist in order to stay upright and remains silent for the duration of their journey. 

When they arrive in the room Claude sets Byleth on the bed before bending down to remove her boots and cloak. She sways momentarily before falling toward him, bracing herself by placing her hands on his shoulders, her face only inches from his own. Her eyes are piercing and he wonders if she’s regained a bit of clarity. He considers asking her as much before he feels her grip relax and she slumps back on the bed, soundly asleep. 

Claude stands up from the side of the bed and rubs a hand over his face, marvelling at what a strange day it has been. He slides the covers down under her and rolls Byleth onto her side before covering her back up. Satisfied she is comfortable, he sits down to read through letters in attempt to pass the time and calm his nerves. 

There is a quiet knock on the door a little while later and Claude ushers the mages inside. Linhardt immediately busies himself with pulling out books and parchment pages, setting them down on the table in a rush. 

“How’s she doing?” Lysithea asks, gesturing to Byleth’s sleeping form. 

“Good, I think. Just tired.” 

Claude tries to hide his concern as he glances over at her, watching the rise and fall of her chest under the blanket. Assured Byleth is still breathing, he turns back toward the table.

“It’s odd. Other than the burn from the attack I couldn’t find anything else requiring healing,” Linhardt says without looking up from the collection he’s organizing. He is rummaging through it as if it were a chest of stolen treasure. 

Lysithea’s expression is grave. “That was no ordinary mage.”

“I take it you’ve encountered them before?” Claude says, thinking of Lysithea's reaction in the shadow library.

“I’ve told Byleth, but the Empire sent mysterious mages to Ordelia when I was a child. They wore the same dark robes and face coverings. Underneath they had pale white skin like their faces never saw the sun. They experimented on many children and I was the…only one that survived.” 

Her voice is tight and Claude is surprised when Linhardt looks up to meet Lysithea’s gaze. Something passes between them that Claude isn’t adept enough to catch as Lysithea nods imperceptibly and Linhardt returns to the books a moment later. 

“I’m sorry, Lysithea.” 

Claude isn’t sure what else to say, though the threads are slowly coming together. There is no doubt in Claude’s mind that these mages are members of the shadow organization he’s looking for. 

“This is connected, isn’t it? Your research and the mages.” Lysithea's eyes narrow.   
  
Claude knows there is no use keeping this from her and it seems Linhardt knows more about it than he’s let on. With Byleth sound asleep, Claude makes the executive decision to tell them about Hubert’s letter and Those Who Slither in the Dark. He does not reveal the engagement scheme, knowing the farce will be necessary for Byleth to step away from the church. 

“So they weren’t working for the Empire?” Lysithea’s voice is quiet and her fists are clenched at her sides. 

“I don’t think so, given Hubert’s letter,” Claude says. “It reads like it’s an appeal for me to try and stop them. That suggests it wasn’t necessarily a mutual relationship but it’s hard to imagine Edelgard being under anyone’s heel.”

“We’re missing something. We must be,” Linhardt says, flipping open a book. “This mysterious group is one piece of the puzzle. Edelgard was very much against the church and the crest system. While not necessarily responsible for this group, she still allowed them to operate. Why?”

Lysithea joins him at the table. “Given what happened to me, Edelgard couldn’t have been responsible at the time. We were both children. That means they’ve been connected to the Empire for a while.”

“The church is the key. It has to be. It’s at the centre of all of this. Maybe that’s why Hubert sent me the letter instead of Byleth. He couldn’t be sure of her relationship to the church and knew that she was favoured by Rhea,” Claude adds. 

He feels like they’re finally getting somewhere but he doesn’t want Byleth to miss out on what they’ve discovered. 

Claude looks over at Byleth again, distracted. “Can I ask the two of you to look over all of this tonight and give me your thoughts tomorrow?”

“Of course, Claude.” Lysithea gently pats his arm. “Do you need anything?” 

“I’m alright. Thanks for your help.” He nods at Linhardt, “Both of you.” 

Lysithea and Linhardt move toward the door. Now that the adrenaline has worn off Claude's body feels tired but his mind is running through all of the information he’s learned today. One thing sticks out to him that he hadn't noticed before. 

“Wait,” Claude calls and they stop in the doorway. “I meant to ask—did you manage to see the attack from upstairs?” 

“We didn’t know it was happening until we heard the commotion,” Lysithea says. “Why do you ask?” 

Claude shakes his head. “Just a feeling I had about earlier. I thought Byleth was on the other side of the library before the attack. She got to me pretty quickly. Almost like she knew it was coming.” 

Linhardt gives a thoughtful hum. “The professor has always been that way. Always in the thick of the fighting. Maybe she’s honed that sense from her time as a mercenary?”

Claude knows that even if Byleth had seen the mage enter the library she would have been approaching from behind the attacker. Instead she threw herself in front of Claude as if to block the mage’s path. It seemed unlikely she would have that much awareness. Then again, Claude had the least amount of experience fighting beside Byleth. 

“Right. That could be it,” Claude shrugs. 

Claude closes the door behind them and pushes the nagging thought from his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I especially appreciate those who have been here each week commenting and offering their insights. I hope you'll continue to enjoy this story.


	8. Chapter 8

Claude is running out of patience by the time Linhardt and Lysithea arrive the next morning. He had woken up alone again, reaching out to cold and empty sheets. He knows Byleth must be feeling better if she was able to sneak out of bed without waking him.

Linhardt is humming a tune when he enters, proceeding to unceremoniously overturn his bag onto the table in a mess of maps, books, and parchment. Lysithea makes a _tsk_ sound as she begins organizing the materials into some semblance of order around them.

Claude is about to ask if they’ve seen Byleth when the door swings open to usher her in. He notices the way she makes a beeline for the table, only giving Claude a quick glance from the corner of her eye. 

There’s no denying Byleth is avoiding him, though he’s still unsure what he’s done to cause such a reaction. Claude tries to brush it off, casually joining his companions as though nothing is wrong. He hesitates for a moment before sliding in beside Byleth, keeping his distance without making it obvious to Lysithea. He assumes Linhardt wouldn’t notice regardless. 

“How are you feeling?” Claude’s voice is gentle, genuine.

“Better.” She offers little else, starting down at the table with purpose.

“I’m glad.” The words sound weak on his tongue and he doesn’t want her to know how disheartened he feels. He turns to the table. “Should we get started?”

Linhardt’s eyes light up. “We found rather a lot of concerning material about the church. It seems they’ve been attempting to suppress technological advancements that might impact their relevance.”

He’s smiling in a way that feels inappropriate given the topic of their conversation as he hands Claude a book titled _Encyclopedia of Fódlan’s Insects_. The cover is obviously false—the book does not contain any insects at all—opening to reveal a catalogue of reports. Most have been badly damaged. Byleth attempts to awkwardly read from a distance over Claude’s shoulder until he steps closer to her and holds the book out between them. She mutters a quiet thank you before they flip through the pages together. 

Each entry lists a discovery that has been forbidden by decree of Archbishop Rhea, accompanied by a list of ways it might threaten the church’s authority. Byleth reaches for the corner of the book, pulling it out of Claude’s hands and into her own. She remains silent yet the shock on her face is easy to read. There are a few things that stand out from the entries. 

“Metal printing is a fairly common practice, isn’t it? Edelgard was able to easily circulate her manifesto during the war,” Claude says.

“Yes, you are correct. A few of the reports are outdated, I believe.” Linhardt brings a hand to his chin as he contemplates the work from memory. “Some of these debates have evolved, such as the use of autopsies.” 

“I imagine this record has been around for some time, though the false cover suggests a forgery or copy to me,” Lysithea adds. “It would be strange for the church to leave such a thing to be found.” 

“What else do you have?” There is an audible _thunk_ as Byleth snaps the book closed before tossing it on back the table.

Lysithea gives Claude a questioning look before turning her attention back to Byleth. He’s as surprised as Lysithea is with Byleth’s agitation. 

“Two more entries of note regarding Saint Seiros. One suggests she may have been in a relationship with Emperor Wilhelm. You’ll note on the last page that Seteth’s signature of removal is there.” She hands the book over to Byleth to review. 

“And the other?” 

Claude was hoping for something more direct than conjecture about romance. The Emperor’s bloodline possessed the crest of Seiros and he imagined it must have started somewhere. 

Lysithea hands Claude a collection of pages. “There was an odd note about the calendar we currently use being implemented by Emperor Wilhelm, though not necessarily created by him. It suggests the influence was Saint Seiros, though I’m not sure why.” 

“I would also like to add this.” Linhardt hands over a partially ruined text that is difficult to read. His excitement would be nearly blasphemous if any supporters of the church were present. 

It appearss to be a memoir from one of the Ten Elites, a so-called _friend of Daphnel,_ questioning their allegiance to Nemesis and wondering why Seiros despises them. Claude’s mind races with the implications. The teachings of the church portray the Elites as pious followers whose dedication to Seiros is to be admired. The continuity of their crests through bloodlines are meant to denote their dedication. This memoir suggests all of this is founded on a false premise; Seiros was hunting down the elites for siding with Nemesis against her, yet she allowed their heirs to live. 

Byleth gives a frustrated huff. “I’m not following. Tell me how this is relevant to us.”

Lysithea is quick to offer an apology. “It’s easy to forget that you don’t know much about the church’s history.” 

Given everything Byleth has told him, Claude knows Jeralt was suspicious of Rhea and took Byleth away from her influence. She knew almost nothing about the church and its teachings before coming to the monastery. Despite Jeralt’s best attempt to keep Byleth away from the church and from Rhea they had both been drawn back in. 

“It’s a good thing.” Byleth finally meets Claude’s eyes when he speaks. “It means you don’t have the same biases others do.” 

Byleth gives a quiet hum of agreement and he tries to count this as a small victory. 

“If I were to summarize it,” Linhardt says carefully, “this is all evidence that the truth differs drastically from the teachings. I would hypothesize that Seiros very carefully constructed this history—especially if the ten elites sided with Nemesis and were later eliminated, as this suggests. Sparing their descendants was an interesting decision. Perhaps to maintain the bloodlines?” 

Claude can understand the motivation immediately. “What better way to ensure fealty? You tell them to perpetuate the narrative to their future children in exchange for their lives. After a few generations it becomes the truth. No one would know enough to contradict the teachings.”

“How does this connect to the strange mages?” Lysithea asks.

Claude knows Lysithea means Those Who Slither in the Dark. He wishes that Hubert had come up with a better name for them. 

“Well I did find a book that might belong to them,” Linhardt says. “I imagine it must if Solon included it with the list. It reads more like propaganda than history and there were references in it that I didn’t understand.” 

Linhardt summarizes the text, which offers little insight save that _children of men_ had to disappear underground because of the false god and swore revenge against the surface and its beasts. Claude agrees it reads as a kind of call to action. 

“Solon called us beasts,” Lysithea says quietly. “Do you remember?” 

Claude remains silent, knowing she is referencing their mission at the academy to find and defeat Solon. Only students in Byleth’s house attended the confrontation so Claude had not been there to witness it. 

Claude’s eyes move to Byleth as she walks across the room to pull something out of her cloak. He removed it from her last night after the attack in the library, though he hadn’t noticed the collection of parchment. The corners of the paper have been burned as though it was meant to be discarded but whoever did it failed to ensure that it was a thorough job.

“I think that the church and Those Who Slither in the Dark have been at war with each other for a while,” Byleth says quietly. 

She hands Linhardt a few pieces of parchment, though Claude notices she carefully folds one remaining piece and tucks it away. He chooses not to ask about it as Lysithea and Linhardt are already engrossed in what Byleth has offered. 

Each of the entries Byleth discovered are disparate pieces of a larger report and, though they hardly offer thorough explanations, the fragments collected are damning evidence. The entry on Loog’s Rebellion against the Empire cites Those Who Slither in the Dark by name, suggesting Hubert was not the first one to adopt the moniker. Their influence is heavily suggested in the division of Leicester from Faerghus and the more recent Tragedy of Duscur. 

The four of them stand in stunned silence for a while as the newest discovery settles in. Byleth places her palms flat on the table, bending forward to survey the archive they’ve created. When she speaks it is with the authority of a leader and Claude expected no less, though he’s never had the opportunity to see it in action.

“We know the teachings of Seiros are founded on lies. We know the church has centralized its authority in Fódlan and repressed advancements that might threaten their power,” Byleth summarizes. “Now we also know that Those Who Slither in the Dark are enemies of the church.”

Claude can pick up on where she’s heading. “We have access to the church and a pretty good foothold here. We need to figure out where the creepy shadow group is hiding and get more information about them.” 

“Exactly.” Byleth gives a determined nod and Claude knows she means finding Rhea can wait. They need to focus on the threat Hubert warned them about rather than the one right under their feet.

Linhardt glances over at Lysithea. “We have some theories. There are a couple of things I need to look into and I think we’ll have a lead on a potential location.” 

“Great work, both of you. Update us as soon as you can.” 

Linhardt and Lysithea collect their materials, leaving with the promise of finding an answer as soon as they can. They are both fumbling at Byleth’s praise and Claude wonders if this was what it was like to be in her class. He’s curious to know if Byleth realizes how much they admire her. 

When the door clicks shut Byleth and Claude are left alone in the room, he wonders how long it will be before she tries to excuse herself or sneak away. Byleth hazards a glance at Claude and he notices she’s studying him. Perhaps she knows she can’t avoid him for much longer.

The silence sits heavily on his shoulders. He’s always fallen back on charisma, talking people in circles until they come around. Byleth sees through him too easily to go for it. 

Claude tentatively closes a bit of the distance between them. “Listen, I’m not sure what happened yesterday but—.” 

She holds up a hand to interrupt as she lets out a sigh, releasing her lip from worrying it between her teeth. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“You didn’t even let him touch me,” Claude laughs, hoping to diffuse things. “I was more worried about you. Linhardt couldn’t figure out what was wrong.” 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in a fight like that. It took a lot out of me.” 

She takes a deep breath, as though she’s preparing to dive underwater. Claude can feel that she wants to trust him. Byleth silently steps toward him, staring up into his eyes like she’s desperately hoping to find something there. Claude knows enough not to speak, silently praying she finds whatever it is she’s looking for.

She looks away from him for a brief moment; enough for him to know there’s something she isn’t saying. Things have shifted between them. 

“I can’t shake this feeling that you’re holding something back.” 

Byleth shakes her head as she reaches into her pocket and retrieves the folded parchment she’d tucked away earlier, slowly unfolding it as she speaks. 

“I found this yesterday. I didn’t have a chance to talk to you and I didn’t want to bring it up when Linhardt and Lysithea were here.” 

She hands it over slowly as though it is a fragile thing that may shatter without proper care and consideration. It is a fragment of the same report from earlier with information about Those Who Slither in the Dark. The discarded sentences tell him things he already knows; the heirs of the Riegan household died in _conspicuous situations_ that implicated Count Gloucester. It would have effectively ended the Riegan line if Claude hadn’t shown up. 

Byleth looks as though she’s waiting for him to dissolve, perhaps imagining rage or remorse. She’s overestimated the information’s impact.

“I suppose it confirms my own deductions,” Claude shrugs.

She looks surprised, head tilting to the side with confusion. “I thought you’d be upset.” 

“I never met my uncles and I’ve known Count Gloucester was an asshole from the start. I assume he would have made a play for the Dukedom when my grandfather was out of the way. I ruined his plans.” 

Claude grins as he remembers countless arguments with that snivelling man. How wonderful it had been for Count Gloucester to have to refer to Claude as _Duke Riegan_ throughout the war. Perhaps Claude should have been surprised when he and Lorenz became friends—then again Lorenz is absolutely nothing like his old man. 

Claude turns his attention back to Byleth, who is closely studying his face as though she’s expecting some latent shift in his demeanour. 

“Is that it? I felt like something else was on your mind.”

He’s trying to show her he knows there’s something there; a subtle piece of the puzzle he’s missing and desperately wants to find. Claude reaches a hand out toward her, willing her to take it. 

“No.” Byleth crosses her arms over her chest, closing in on herself and pulling away from him. “That was all I wanted to tell you.” 

“Okay.” He feels defeated. “Well, if there’s anything else you know where to find me.” 

Claude tries not to stare as he watches her leave the room. 

***

Byleth walks to the training grounds the moment she’s able to leave Seteth’s office. Spending her time trying to reform church policies has been worthwhile and exhausting. Seteth is evasive when it comes to any kind of institutional memory—claiming he hasn’t been at the church that long—though Byleth is aware he and Rhea have known each other a long time. 

She choose not to press him on any information they found the previous day, instead waiting to see what Lysithea and Linhardt discovered first. Byleth does not want to reveal her hand. She isn’t sure if Seteth had been honest about Rhea’s lack of contact with him and she didn’t want to tip them off too early if they were in communication.

If Those Who Slither in the Dark have been around as long as their research suggested, there was no way Rhea was unaware of their existence. Byleth was beginning to question how long Rhea herself had been the Archbishop, causing more questions to collect in her mind. 

Byleth viciously slices at the training dummy, practising the finesse of her strokes as an artist might on a canvas. With every audible _thwack_ of the dulled blade she sees the darkened mask of the mage who attacked them. Her guard had been down. She was too engrossed in the report on the death of Duke Riegan’s heirs to be paying attention to the intruder. 

The first time the mage had gone for Linhardt, catching him before he went upstairs. The next time Byleth intercepted the mage and managed the first strike when Claude tried to intervene and took a bolt of lightning directly in the chest. When she used her Divine Pulse again she felt dizzy, faltering long enough for the mage to go for Claude directly this time, plunging a dagger into his back. Byleth finally killed the mage before he could hurt anyone on the next attempt. 

It was embarrassing that Claude needed to carry her back to their room. Byleth was seen as an indomitable warrior to her students; she never appeared weak. She had no idea why her abilities were taking so much of her energy and no one to ask for help. 

Claude was far too observant, as always. He had been keeping an eye on her before the attack and, though he hadn’t said anything this morning, Byleth knows he is wondering why she is acting strangely. She can’t keep avoiding Claude. If nothing else it will start to look suspicious that she spends so little time with him. Seteth has already attempted to prod with questions about the wedding and Byleth does not want her behaviour to give any openings to suggest she call things off to remain in her role instead.

When she agreed to this scheme with Claude she never considered the possibility that she might come to appreciate spending time with him. She could not have anticipated he was compassionate and kind in a way she had not experienced before. It doesn’t seem fair to have these feelings which might not have developed otherwise. Byleth feels stuck. Staying in such close proximity to Claude will only encourage these feelings to grow, but calling off the engagement would compromise the things they are both searching for. Claude needs this scheme to solve his mystery. Byleth needs this scheme to escape from her position.

Anger fills in the pit of her stomach as she thinks about being Archbishop. Rhea had been selling people hope while simultaneously trying to hold them back and keep them dependent upon the church. Byleth felt much the same as them; prey to Rhea’s whims even now. Byleth focuses her rage as she casts, unleashing a powerful thoron spell at the training dummy’s centre of gravity. She watches it explode from the impact, splinters of wood flying in every direction. 

Byleth barks out an empty laugh at the remnant of the training dummy, which looks about as good as she feels. She puts away the blunted sword as she remembers countless hours of lessons spent here with her students. She misses the simplicity of the Officer’s Academy when things were not so dire, her father was alive and Rhea was only a little bit strange, and Edelgard was not waging war against them. 

She leaves the training grounds behind and trudges up the stairs to her quarters. Most of the monastery’s inhabitants will be at dinner and Byleth hopes to avoid them. 

When she reaches the third floor she hears a familiar humming coming from the terrace. Hilda is standing outside on her own and Byleth decides to join her, not yet ready to go inside to see if Claude is there. 

Hilda turns when she sees Byleth coming and gives a radiant smile. 

“I came for the view,” Hilda greets her. “We never got to come up here when those were Rhea’s quarters. I much prefer the new Archbishop.” 

Hilda giggles and Byleth knows she should respond but she feels off and waits too long to laugh at the joke. Hilda, perceptive as always, easily picks up on Byleth’s mood. 

“You doing okay?” Hilda’s voice is soft.

Byleth isn’t sure how to tell Hilda about the feelings echoing through her chest. Her strategy of boxing them up and putting them away isn’t working anymore; there isn’t enough space for all of the things Byleth wants to hold onto. She wonders if talking to Hilda might help.

“I’m feeling confused,” she starts. 

Hilda encourages her to continue. 

“Being with Claude is confusing,” Byleth blurts out. Then she realizes how that must sound and quickly adds, “Because of the scheme, you know.” 

“That’s fair. You have been spending a lot of time together.” 

Hilda moves to one of the benches and gently pats the stone beside her, motioning for Byleth to sit down. Byleth sits next to Hilda and waits for her to speak again. Byleth studies the hem of her sleeve, pulling on a loose thread to avoid looking at Hilda for a moment. 

“Claude can be a tough one to figure out.”

Byleth gives Hilda a questioning look, unsure what she means. Byleth finds Claude to be pretty open when you ask the right questions.

“If you think about it, Claude could have taken Fódlan if he really wanted it,” Hilda continues. “He could have gone back to Almyra and stormed in here with an army while things were falling apart. He had more than enough information. Instead he kept the Alliance out of the war for five years and handed it over to you and Dimitri when he knew you could win before going back to Almyra. Now he’s trying to work with us as allies.” 

Byleth isn’t following Hilda’s though process. She lets out an exasperated sigh. “What does that have to do with our scheme?” 

“It tells you what kind of person he is.” 

“Which is?” 

“Claude wants things to be better for everyone, not only for himself. He’s that rare, self-sacrificing type,” Hilda smiles. She looks over at Byleth and adds, “Oddly enough, he’s just like someone else I know.”

Byleth snorts as Hilda bumps Byleth’s shoulder with her own. Byleth isn’t sure she’d describe herself that way. She has never wanted much in her life and her feelings about leaving the role of Archbishop feel rather selfish.

“I thought we were talking about Claude?”

“We are.” Hilda reaches over and places her hands on Byleth’s shoulders, squaring off to look her in the eyes. “You’re allowed to want things, Byleth.” 

Byleth looks away, unsure what to do with Hilda’s directness. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

The words lie flat between them and Byleth grimaces at her own failed attempt to deflect.

“It’ll be embarrassing for both of us if you make me spell it out.” Hilda smiles to show the admonishment is gentle. 

Byleth huffs out a laugh. Then she admits quietly that she isn’t sure what she should do.

Hilda takes Byleth’s hand. “I care about you and Claude. Neither of you are good at talking about feelings. Try to work on it together.” 

Byleth nods. “I’ll think about it.” 

Hilda stands up and pulls Byleth with her, looping their arms together as they walk down the hall. Hilda gives Byleth a hug before leaving her at the door to the Archbishop’s quarters. She pats Byleth on the back. 

“Well, you’d better think fast because Claude’s inside and he’s expecting you.”

Byleth spins around on Hilda as her mouth drops open in shock.

“Have a good chat.” 

Hilda has the audacity to wink as she waves goodbye and disappears down the stairs, leaving Byleth standing in front of the doors to her room. For a brief moment Byleth considers running before reminding herself that she is a seasoned mercenary who led an entire army to victory over the Adrestian Empire. She does not retreat. 

Byleth pushes the door open with determination, the force of it causing Claude’s eyes to snap up to meet her when she enters. He stands abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor and ink spilling over whatever it is he’s working on.

“Byleth? What’s going on?”

She sucks in a breath as she walks toward him, trying to steady herself enough to speak. Byleth doesn’t want to lose whatever sense of bravery she’s mustered.

“We need to talk.” Her voice sounds too firm and she wills herself to calm down. 

“Oh, of course.” Claude is surprised at the forthrightness but he recovers quickly. “That’s good. I was hoping to catch you, actually.” 

Byleth nods tersely, gesturing to the chaise at the end of the bed. Perhaps sitting at the table would be more appropriate but it’s currently occupied by stacks of correspondence and books. It feels too formal for whatever this conversation is supposed to be. 

Claude sits down beside her, running a hand through his hair in the tell-tale gesture that suggests he’s collecting his thoughts.

“Listen, Byleth—.”

Byleth interrupts, taking the opportunity to speak before all of her willpower has ebbed.

“I lied to you.” 

“What?” Claude stammers, obviously taken off guard. 

Byleth continues before he can recover. She avoids looking directly at him, instead staring down at his chest as though she is speaking directly to his heart. She doesn’t know how he feels but she’s trying to take Hilda’s advice to talk about things. 

“I like spending time with you. I like waking up with you. I like that you always ask me how I’m feeling.” It's as though she’s reciting a list to a merchant, crossing off items one by one. “And I’m not a good actor. I liked kissing you.”

“Oh,” Claude offers absently. 

Byleth continues staring at Claude’s chest, not yet ready to meet his eyes. She’s worried about what she might read in them. She can tell this is far from what he expected her to say. Perhaps she’s miscalculated. Perhaps Hilda miscalculated, though it would be unlikely. Byleth trusts Hilda’s intuition when it comes to other people. 

Claude is silent for a few more agonizing moments before he reaches out for Byleth, gently placing a hand under her chin. She tilts her head upward and finds him staring down at her with a shy smile.

“I owe you an apology.” 

It’s Byleth’s turn to look confused. “What?” 

He drops his hand from her face to take her hand instead. She’s missed this feeling, the way he anchors her in place.

Claude’s face flushes as he speaks. “I liked kissing you too. That night at camp I didn’t know how to tell you, so I said that stupid line about you being a good actor. I should have been honest.”

 _That night at camp._ Byleth’s stomach lurches as she remembers that as far as Claude knows that was the only time they kissed. That one was spurred on by the scheme. The second time they kissed it was entirely of their own volition, but for Claude it had never happened at all. 

Byleth feels her grip tighten as she threads her fingers through his, pulling him close enough that the space between them nearly disappears. 

“This whole thing is supposed to be fake. I wasn’t sure if I should be attracted to you,” Byleth admits.

“Our engagement might be fake but the chemistry isn’t.” Claude’s voice is genuine and warm, sending a shiver down Byleth’s spine. “I think as long as we communicate with each other this can be whatever we want it to be. We can figure it out together.”

“Together,” Byleth echoes her agreement.

Claude opens his arms and she moves onto his lap, letting her head fall against his shoulder. Claude wraps his arms around her, steady and strong. They stay like that for a few moments and Byleth tries to tell herself that she can trust this. She can trust Claude. 

“Is this why you’ve been acting strangely?” Claude’s voice is soft against the crown of her head. 

Byleth offers a quiet _mhmm_ against his neck and she feels Claude shake his head in response. 

Claude lets out a sigh of relief and given their close proximity Byleth feels it as if it were her own. “I’ve been so worried about you.” 

There’s a pang of guilt as a faraway voice in Byleth’s mind tells her she hasn’t been honest enough. She silences it, telling herself the kiss from the other night hadn’t really happened. Even though she’d handled it poorly then, she’s managed to fix things now.

“I’m sorry,” Byleth says, looking up to meet his eyes.

Her nose brushes against Claude’s and he smiles. 

“Let’s promise to talk it out next time. I’m here, Byleth. I’m not going anywhere.”

 _Only to Almyra when all of this is done_ , that vicious voice says again. Byleth smiles back at Claude and her inner voice is silenced when she brings her lips up to meet his. 

He laughs quietly against her mouth, no doubt taken by this strange turn of events. Byleth revels in this kiss as he deepens it, intentional and lingering and _real_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one had me stuck in editing purgatory for a while but it all felt relevant and the chapter turned into a bit of a doozy. I hope you enjoy it regardless!


	9. Chapter 9

She turns just in time to see the dagger plunge into his back before the mage quickly withdraws it and throws it to the floor. It crashes against the stone, ringing out her failure. 

“Byleth!” he calls out. 

She tries to pull on the threads of time, wanting to take it back, willing to give anything to save him. Nothing happens. He is lying on the floor as she desperately tries to rewind time, over and over. She is screaming.

“Byleth, wake up!” 

She starts with a gasp, sitting straight up in bed clutching at her chest. Her other hand reaches out to clutch Claude’s arm, holding on tightly to assure herself that he is real. She looks over at him with panicked eyes to find concern clearly written on his face. 

“It was a dream,” he says calmly. “You’re okay.” 

Byleth throws herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around Claude and holding him tight. She can’t tell him that it wasn’t a dream—that it had almost happened. That it only happened to her. She can’t tell him she’s worried about him; she thought he was dead. 

Byleth grabs fistfuls of Claude's shirt as he runs his fingers through her hair and whispers soothing, indiscernible words. The adrenaline slowly ebbs out of her body, leaving behind a strange kind of nervous exhaustion. She wants to sleep but doesn’t know how it will be possible. 

Claude slowly coaxes Byleth into laying back down with him, holding her close so she ends up tucked into his side. He doesn’t ask any questions. It’s been happening the past few nights—since the encounter in the library—and Byleth hasn’t told him what the dreams are about. Claude asks her if she wants to talk every time she wakes from these dreams. She contemplates telling him about her ability to manipulate time but always holds back.

No one knows about this particular ability and she worries betraying the secret will somehow nullify her power. If people knew she could change things she imagines they would ask her to do it when they felt it necessary. Perhaps they would demand it. She has a feeling they are going to need it when they find their shadow group and Byleth doesn’t want anything to prevent her from using it. 

Nearly a week has passed since their expedition to Abyss and Lysithea and Linhardt are struggling to find a location for Those Who Slither in the Dark. They narrowed things down significantly, centring their search around the connection to the Empire. Lysithea has taken to calling the shadow group _the slitherers_ and the name stuck. Even Linhardt would begrudgingly mutter it. Unfortunately it hasn’t done much to lessen Byleth’s fear of them. 

Byleth finds the waiting less frustrating than she anticipated, occupying more of her time reviewing church operations and engaging in whatever it was that was happening between her and Claude. They hadn’t talked about it again since that night in her chambers, but things felt different between them. Not much had shifted from when they were pretending to be engaged in front of others; those things just happened away from the audience as well. 

Claude was a warm, affectionate person. Though his smiles were often meant to distract, his physical presence was sincere. It was a genuine part of his energy that he could draw someone in so easily for a pat on the back, a hug, or a squeeze of their arm. Kisses on the cheek were reserved for his closest friends, regardless of gender. Byleth began to notice many small acts were reserved for her alone: Claude’s hand always finding her lower back when they walk through busier parts of the monastery; when he presses kisses to her forehead when no one is around; how he pulls off his gloves when he wants to hold her hand. She’s never let anyone become so embedded in her life. 

They haven’t spoken about what happens when the _slitherers_ are gone and this scheme ends. Byleth knows she doesn’t want to be Archbishop and she’s been thinking more about what happens when she leaves the monastery. She wants to travel and visit her former students before deciding what it is she’ll do. There’s a small, mutinous part of her that wants to ask Claude to come with her but he loves Almyra and his dreams are there. He hasn’t said anything about what happens after he solves his riddles in Fódlan. 

Byleth looks up from her desk to find Claude bent over the ledgers she asked him to review. She had reluctantly taken Rhea’s old office at Seteth’s insistence, though she still refused to use the audience chamber attached to it. Byleth questioned why a church needed a throne but given everything they uncovered she is now less surprised to find it there. 

Her eyes wander easily over Claude’s back. 

“I can feel you watching me, you know.” He laughs as he picks up the ledgers and brings them over to Byleth’s desk. 

She’s embarrassed at being caught out. “I like watching you work.”

“Well my work has paid off,” Claude grins back at her. “You’ll be pleased to know I may have solved your problem.” 

Byleth was looking for a way to redistribute monastery funds to the Officer’s Academy in order to allow for more students without noble titles to attend. It was obvious based on the existing admission structure that the academy was meant to bring in noble students from families with crests or those who wished to maintain the church’s favour. The exorbitant tuition meant commoners rarely attended and those who did were often from merchant families who had patronage under minor lords. 

Byleth was a great mercenary and she knew more than most when it came to battle strategies and managing battalions, but she wasn’t sure where to start when it came to balancing the budget for an entire organization. She expressed her frustrations to Claude the night before over dinner and he offered his expertise, having managed the Alliance for five years before ruling Almyra. 

“What’s your solution?” She stands up to lean over the ledgers beside him, trying to ignore the way he shifts his body closer to hers.

“This won’t be a surprise to you, but the majority of funds go to the Knights of Seiros.” Claude shows her how to interpret the columns of numbers that denote the salaries of senior knights, the maintenance of their barracks and battalions, and the excessive spending on weapons and armour. 

“The church has a standing army that rivals the sovereign territories,” he concludes.

“No,” Byleth says, “Rhea does. An army that’s ready to do whatever she asks.”

She knew Rhea never had the best of intentions, yet seeing evidence Rhea has used the knights and the students at the Officers Academy to do her dirty work is something else. Byleth feels used. She stares down at the ledger as anger flares through her body.

Byleth looks over at Claude, still present at her side, patiently watching. “I have to fix this.” 

Claude pulls her in close and kisses her hair. “You are, Byleth. You will.” 

She relaxes a fraction and folds into him, standing as Claude wraps her in his arms. She leans up to kiss him, relishing his warmth. 

There’s a knock at the door and Claude groans before they hear Nader announce himself. 

“Enter,” Claude calls. 

Nader pushes the door open and gives a knowing smile at having found Claude and Byleth so close together. 

They are surprised to see someone else entering with Nader, a lithe man with long purple hair and striking eyes. He’s wearing a long cape over light armour. The man moves toward Byleth’s desk, bowing a few steps away from them. 

“Your majesty, your grace.” Their guest stands with a flourish, giving them both a warm smile. Byleth recognizes it as the same kind of mask that Claude wears in the hopes that people will underestimate him.

“And you are?” Claude asks, his tone neutral and polite.

“Please call me Yuri,” their guest responds with a smirk. 

Nader interjects before anyone continues. “ _Yuri_ here approached me in the training grounds and asked me to take him to see the Archbishop and King Khalid.” 

Claude speaks quietly in Almyran to Nader who nods and exits the room. The door closes behind him with a soft click. Byleth feels Claude tense beside her though he remains silent, deferring to Byleth’s authority. 

“You’ve obviously come with a purpose,” she starts with a firm voice.

“Of course, Archbishop—”

“Byleth.”

She sees Yuri’s face shift minutely, betraying his surprise at her informality. He smiles as he continues speaking. 

“I have some information that will be of interest to you.” Yuri slowly opens his cape and pulls a letter from within. Byleth can see from the torn edges that it has been opened. “It is regarding the location of Those Who Slither in the Dark.” 

Byleth remains still, keeping her own impassive mask on her face. She knows Claude will play along. 

“How did you come to learn this?”

Yuri shrugs at this. “Your venture in Abyss didn’t go unnoticed. You left a bit of a mess.” 

In spite of his calmness Byleth senses the tension in his shoulders when he mentions the underground city. He is rigid, defensive. 

Byleth studies him carefully. “Why would you care about Abyss?” 

“Ah, you are good,” he chuckles. “Listen, Byleth, I’m all for cutting the pretense here. The previous Archbishop and I had an arrangement. Abyss was mine, without interference, in exchange for information and a few favours here and there.” 

Invoking Rhea gives Byleth the feeling of pinpricks under her skin. 

“I see. So you’re asking for the same clemency with me?” 

Yuri tips his head. 

“Fine,” she says. “Give us their location and Abyss is yours.”

Yuri slides the letter toward Byleth across her desk. “Happy hunting.”

Byleth watches as he turns to leave the room, his cape swishing behind him. Byleth sighs as her body sags back into Claude. 

“He’s a problem we can deal with later, should we need to.” Claude offers. “For what it’s worth I get the sense he truly only cares about Abyss.” 

“It doesn’t explain how he knows about Those Who Slither in the Dark.” 

Claude gives a thoughtful look. “A mystery for another day.” 

Byleth rubs a hand over her face, exhaustion setting in as she tries to follow the web of intrigues and lies that surround Rhea, the spider at the centre of it all. Byleth was growing tired of mysteries. She hoped that as soon as they could take out the slitherers she could find Rhea next and put an end to these questions. 

“Help me with these ledgers,” she sighs into Claude’s shoulder. “Then we’ll worry about this letter.” 

***

As it turned out, Yuri’s information was solid. Claude expected no less. If he was correct, this was the infamous Mockingbird, a man whose network of spies was one of the best on the continent. Claude hadn’t realized the Mockingbird had been operating underneath Garreg Mach this entire time. It was a brilliant strategy to hide in plain sight of one of the safest locations in all of Fódlan. The fact that Rhea had used it as a mutually beneficial arrangement was no surprise either. 

Claude knew the monastery’s business was weighing heavily on Byleth. Each new thing they discovered about Rhea or her management of the church sparked frustration. Byleth marvelled at Rhea’s selfishness but Claude knew those in power lusted for more, aching to maintain their carefully constructed sense of control. One of the things Claude admired about Byleth was how adamantly she refused such inclinations. Claude had learned from spending time with her that she truly wanted to help others, wishing for a world where power was not hoarded by so few. 

For someone who was going to renounce her position, Byleth spent a lot of time working on policy reform for the church. Claude was amazed by how much she had done in such a short amount of time. She was preparing to hand the torch off to whoever would come after her before stepping out of the limelight and hoping that the next Archbishop would be inspired to continue the work. Claude envied that—he would never be able to so wholly entrust his ambitions to anyone else. 

Yuri’s letter contained a location for a settlement in eastern Fódlan south of the Goneril territory, near the end of the mountain range. Although Lysithea and Linhardt had narrowed things down to the southeast, Yuri’s information gave them a precise location. They made the decision to wait another week before departing, setting up a trip to visit to Ordelia territory under the guise of taking Lysithea home to see her parents. Claude opted to leave his battalion behind so as not to attract attention, which meant they would travel with Byleth’s honour guard composed of their friends.

Claude was glad to be travelling again if only for the freedom it brought Byleth. She was happier away from the monastery, smiling and laughing openly as she teased their companions. The evenings were filled with revelry as they ate and drank together, playing games or reminiscing abut their academy days. Hilda kept sending Claude knowing looks whenever he held Byleth close or kissed her forehead when he thought no one was looking. He hadn’t spoken to Hilda about the shift in his relationship with Byleth but it was obvious she knew. 

For their part, Byleth and Claude hadn’t spoken about anything since the night they admitted the scheme may be more than it appears. He’s not sure the depth of Byleth’s feelings but he knows his own are quickly taking root. Whatever it is they are, it means more to Claude than he cares to admit. He respects Byleth too much to tell her any of this. He wants her to leave her position and seek out her happiness on the path she envisions for herself. Claude is destined to return to Almyra, beholden to his crown, and he would never suggest Byleth give anything up for the sake of his ambitions. 

He will be happy with the gift he has been given and enjoy the time he is able to spend with her in the present. The future will always be waiting. 

“Your move, von Riegan.” Sylvain pulls one of Claude’s pieces off the board with a smug smile. 

Claude scoffs in response. He should have seen that move coming.

They are in Claude’s tent away from the noise of their small camp, though Hilda and Leonie’s arguing still faintly carries. Byleth had been tasked with making tonight’s dinner and Lysithea and Linhardt had taken the opportunity to get in some more research before the reached the other side of Ordelia territory. 

“Any particular reason you’re so distracted? There’s no way I should have taken that.”

Claude tries to shrug it off. “Nothing important.” 

Sylvain reaches over and places his hand on Claude’s shoulder, suddenly serious. “I hope you know we’re friends.” 

“Of course.” Claude smiles back at him. It’s an automatic response and Sylvain catches it immediately.

“You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Claude.”

It’s one of those rare moments where Sylvain’s sincerity shines through; there’s not a hint of sarcasm anywhere in his voice. He’s watching Claude earnestly, giving him the opportunity to speak if he wishes to take it. 

Claude considers for a moment that Sylvain may be a good confidant given his recent revelation about being in love with Felix. Unfortunately, confiding in Sylvain about Claude’s growing feelings for Byleth would give away the secret they are not actually engaged. For a moment he considers letting Sylvain in on the secret but that’s a decision he and Byleth should make together. It’s not Claude's to share. 

Instead he says, “Byleth and I have something to tell you all over dinner. It’s been preoccupying me today.” 

It’s not a lie; not really. Their intention was to tell the rest of their group about the mission against the slitherers. Really it came down to Sylvain and Leonie, as they were the only two that didn’t know, but Hilda promised to act surprised when she was told. 

“Oh goddess,” Sylvain says with wide-eyes, “did you knock up the professor?” 

“What? No!” Claude stammers. “Why would you think that?”

“You just said the two of you had news to share!” Sylvain sighs, clutching at his chest. “Don’t scare me like that.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” Claude gives Sylvain a gentle punch to the shoulder. 

“Oh c’mon. You two obviously love each other. It’s not impossible,” Sylvain laughs. “Besides, I’m the last person to judge.” 

Claude shakes off Sylvain’s words, carefully ignoring the interesting pieces of that sentence, and they return to the game. 

Claude tells himself to focus and he’s got Sylvain cornered by the time Byleth lets them know dinner is ready. They join the others outside at the campfire. 

Byleth hands Claude a bowl of Daphnel stew, one of his favourite meals, before she settles in next to him. The group eats at a leisurely pace, talking and joking throughout. Claude sets aside his empty bowl and reaches an arm around Byleth, resting it easily across her shoulders. She leans into him, asking if he’s ready to tell the group about their secret and he reddens at the thought of Sylvain’s suggestion from earlier. He nods back at Byleth. She doesn’t seem to notice his expression. 

Claude starts as planned, telling the group they are going to travel past Ordelia territory to the border of Hrym. He explains they are on an mission to find this shadow organization on behalf of the church, which had been Byleth’s suggestion. Given the history between the groups it wasn’t a difficult sell. Linhardt and Lysithea interject with information about their research and findings.

“You’re telling me these creeps have been living right next door to my territory this whole time?” Hilda is outraged and Claude doesn’t think it is entirely an act. 

“We’re hoping you’ll help us take them out. I’m sorry we didn’t say more at the monastery but we weren’t sure how extensive their network is,” Byleth tells the group. 

Leonie makes a fist and punches her other hand with it in a show of force. “If these people were involved in Captain Jeralt’s death then it’s my duty to avenge him.” 

Claude squeezes Byleth hand at the mention of her father. She squeezes back in response. 

“You know I can’t say no to a beautiful woman.” Sylvain wiggles his eyebrows at Byleth suggestively and she rolls her eyes in response. “Or a beautiful man, for that matter.” 

Claude winks at Sylvain as he pulls out a map of the target location and lays it out in front of the group. Byleth begins to explain the plan as their companions snap to attention. Claude and Byleth had formulated the plan together over the course of their travel but feeling it come to fruition sent a shiver of excitement through him. Working with Byleth over the past week has shown him how well they complement one another. They answer the group’s questions and run through the plan one more time before adjourning for the night. 

Hilda sends Claude and Byleth to their tent for rest while she enlists Sylvain’s help in putting out the fire. 

Their tents for this trip are smaller and far less elaborate than the one he uses when travelling with his retinue so things are fairly cozy inside their space. He’s gotten used to sharing a bed with Byleth but there are many intimacies which remain unexplored in their fledgling relationship. 

Claude turns to face the canvas wall when Byleth begins changing in front of him. 

“You don’t need to preserve my modesty,” she teases. “I’ve been a mercenary my entire life.” 

He hears the rustle of fabric as she pulls off her over clothes and tosses them unceremoniously onto her pack at the top of her bedroll. 

“This isn’t the barracks,” Claude says over his shoulder. “We haven’t discussed it so I’m not going to make any assumptions.” 

Byleth is silent in response. Claude waits as he hears her rustling in the tent. After a while everything is quiet and he continues to wait. 

Eventually she speaks with a soft voice. “Your turn. I won’t look.” 

Claude turns around to find Byleth sitting on her bedroll with a hand over her eyes. He can’t help but smile at the sight of her, waiting for him to change and join her. Something about it makes him feel daring.

“I don’t mind if you look.”

Claude removes his cape and begins to unfasten the buttons of his coat, shrugging out of it as Byleth lowers her hand from her face. Her eyes are fixed on his as he moves toward where she’s seated, laying down his clothes somewhere behind him. Claude kicks off his boots before sitting across from her, their knees nearly touching. 

Byleth watches him carefully as he moves for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head so his chest is bared. Claude can’t help the wink he gives her as he reaches for his night shirt, leaning in close to take it from the top of the bedroll. He’s stopped mid reach when Byleth presses a hand to his chest, her palm pressing him back as she stares up at him. 

“We should talk.” She looks conflicted when she speaks, her eyes falling to the hand pressed against his chest. 

Claude reaches up and covers her hand with his, a silent signal to continue. She keeps speaking at his chest and this is how he knows it must be important. She always avoids his eyes when she’s collecting her thoughts.

“I don’t want either of us to be distracted tomorrow. After it’s done, then we’ll talk.” 

Claude takes her hand and brings it up to his lips, gently kissing her palm. “It’s a date.” 

Byleth smirks as she looks up at him, whatever apprehension he saw before gone from her face. 

“Should I put my shirt on now?” He jokes.

She surprises him when she says she doesn’t mind if he leaves it off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is still technically Sunday in my timezone, so I've made it just in time even though I usually like to post a bit earlier in the day! This week was a bit hectic and I didn't have as much time to edit as I wanted to. Progress not perfection.


	10. Chapter 10

Byleth found it difficult to sleep the night before their assault on the stronghold of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Yuri’s letter referred to it as an underground city, the refuge of those who had been waging war against the church from the shadows for so long. The initial plan was to do reconnaissance as they were unsure what they may be confronted with. Hubert’s letter noted Byleth and Dimitri’s campaign against the Empire had unknowingly taken out the leadership of the slitherers, leaving their operations severely incapacitated. It was difficult to know what their strength looked like. 

Given what they knew, Claude suggested modifying the plan to accommodate a stealth attack. The primary goal would be information but if they saw an opportunity to strike they would take it. Byleth reluctantly agreed, though she wished there was more information to go on. She needed to be ready to use her abilities if the situation called for it and hoped she wouldn’t encounter the same problem she had in Abyss. 

Byleth woke early, quietly untangling herself from Claude’s limbs and whispering to him to get a bit more sleep. She stepped out of their tent and braced herself against the fresh chill of morning air. The sun was just beginning to paint the sky in a palette of orange and red. 

Byleth lit the fire and began to review her notes for today’s strategy. They had gone over it broadly last night but she wanted to ensure that everyone would be ready. Her companions slowly began to filter out of their tents and collect around the fire, quietly waking up and eating breakfast. Claude gently squeezed Byleth’s shoulder before settling on the ground next to her. 

“Everything okay?” His voice was quiet, meant only for her. 

“I woke up early and wanted to review the plan for today.” 

Claude hummed in acknowledgement as he reached for the cup of tea Hilda handed him. Byleth left hers untouched beside her. 

Byleth went over the plan in more detail with the group, giving precise assignments this time. There is one entrance that they know of, so they will move as a group and disperse once inside, though she doesn’t want any of them to be out of line of sight.

“We’re going to mix ground and air units. Linhardt and Hilda, Sylvain and Leonie, Lysithea and Claude. Move together in your pairs.” 

“Wait,” Claude interrupted, “that leaves you on your own.” 

Byleth looked over in surprise. She was always on her own during a battle except when she was leading a battalion. “Of course.” 

“We can have one group of three,” Claude countered. “Then you aren’t left alone.” 

“It might be too visible,” she shrugged, unsure why it was a concern. 

Claude held her with a firm gaze. “If that’s what we’re worried about then shouldn’t we all move on our own?” 

Byleth noticed the rest of the group was trying their best to subtly watch the interaction without getting involved; awkwardly staring down at their cups of tea or watching the fire. 

“Moving in mixed unit pairs allows more flexibility and we’ve split the magic users among the groups. I have magic and I’m proficient with my sword.”

The corner of Claude’s lips fell just enough to tell her he was frowning. “So that’s it? No discussion?”

Being challenged on her strategy wasn’t something she was used to. During the war the only arguments she had were with Gilbert and Rodrigue—usually because she was backed into a corner and acquiesced to something perceived to be for Dimitri’s benefit. Byleth was surprised at how flustered she felt by Claude’s dissent. 

“I’m fine on my own.”

“You don’t have to be, Byleth.” 

She sighed in frustration as the conversation rounded the curve of yet another circle. 

“The professor—ugh, sorry, _Byleth_ —will be fine, Claude.” Leonie tried her best to break the tension. “This was how we won the war. We follow her lead. Besides, those of us flying can keep an eye on things.” 

Byleth studied Claude’s face carefully in her peripheral vision. She watched as his usual mask carefully slipped back into place as he nodded at Leonie. Then he turned back to Byleth. 

“Can we compromise on a triangle formation with you at the centre? If we have to adjust we will, but that’s how I’d prefer we go in.” 

It was clear Claude wouldn’t let this go. Byleth knew it was an effective compromise and that it wouldn’t impact their strategy. This was entirely uncharted territory and she had no real evidence she needed to be the vanguard of their force. She was unsure why Claude was so concerned. 

“Alright, we’ll do it your way.” After a moment she added, “When we’re inside you’ll need to follow my lead.” 

Claude smiled back at her. “You got it, _Teach_.”

Byleth rolled her eyes at the old nickname before reiterating the new formation to the group. They quickly disassembled their camp, hiding their materials near by so they could travel lightly. They made the short distance to the city’s entrance in relatively good time and proceeded inside.

Although the entrance was buried within a nondescript gathering of foothills in between the Hrym and Goneril territories, the city within was nothing short of astounding. It opened into a cavernous space beneath the mountain with towering ceilings. The walls shone like polished obsidian with eerie lights running through them as if by magic. It was disturbingly quiet.

Byleth called for them to be on their guard. Perhaps these people had gone undetected for so long that they required no security, though it was unlikely. Their group proceeded inside, spreading out carefully and moving together as a unit. 

It was difficult to know how large the city was or how many people were held in its depths as the cavern was deceptively open, though no natural light reached it. Byleth realized this explained the pale skin of any slitherers she encountered previously. They lived their lives entirely underground, and those who took on the appearances of those above ground seemed to be senior ranking members. Perhaps it took particular skill or a specific kind of magic to do so. 

Eventually they heard noise echoing through the space and cautiously sought it out, mindful of remaining undetected for as long as they could. The hall they were travelling narrowed, moving around a large, open room beneath them. 

Byleth noticed a number of mages placed around the space with hulking metal monsters near them. At the centre of the room stood an imposing knight, his face covered with a severe helmet. She knew there was no way to remain unseen now. Byleth moved forward to the head of the group as her companions filed in behind her. She descended the stairs into the room while the mages watched her. 

“So you have found us at last, Fell Star.” The knight’s voice rang out through the room. 

Byleth remembered Solon had used the same name for her though she knew nothing of what it meant. 

“I’ve come for answers,” she replied, carefully signalling for her companions to hold the flank behind her as they moved forward. 

“What would the Fell Star ask when she has already taken so much?”

As they moved into the room Byleth could see more mages in its depths and noticed the knight was guarding a large door. Imposing metal rods flanked the doors, sparking with lightning. It was possible they were being lured into an ambush. They hadn’t seen anyone come in behind them but Byleth knew that did not mean they couldn’t follow them in. She hoped to keep the knight talking. 

“Why are you at war with the church?” 

“We are at war with Seiros,” he yelled and many mages echoed their displeasure. “She hides _in_ her church and so you mistakenly assume we are at war with the church.”

“Seiros is dead.” 

The knight bellowed out a laugh. “The beast has deceived you all. Ruling all this time under one name or another, spreading her so-called religion among the surface. She is a blight.”

Byleth’s mind was racing as pieces began fitting together. He was speaking of Rhea. Her anger flared. 

“Will you not talk to us? We could come to an agreement.”

“Never,” he spat. “The Agarthans will survive, as we have always survived. You will die here in Shambhala.” 

Chaos erupted within the room as mages began firing spells and the metal monsters whirred to life. Byleth’s group did their best to maintain formation, focusing first on taking out the monsters. Claude used his bow to take out as many mages as he could at a distance while Lysithea used her particularly potent spells to attack the monsters. Linhardt focused his energy on keeping everyone healed as Sylvain and Hilda rushed into the fray. Leonie flew in and out with swift and deadly lance attacks on her pegasus. As mages and monsters began to fall their group tried to spread further into the main room to take out those on the periphery and cover other entrances. 

Then the lightning began to spark, shooting vicious streams of electricity from the pillars at the front of the room. Byleth drew on her powers once after Lysithea had taken a terrible strike, rewinding time and ordering Lysithea out of range before they hit. This time it went for Leonie, who was easily able to avoid it. Byleth shook off the nausea she felt.

They continued to press forward, slowly gaining parity with the enemy. Archers came in from doorways at one side of the room and Byleth sent Sylvain to dispatch them while Claude provided cover. Hilda was able to make a few devastating strikes, taking a few of them out before they could notch an arrow. 

Byleth hadn’t been paying enough attention to the other side of the room and an enemy landed a devastating shot that killed Linhardt. She pulled on the threads of time and called out for Claude to send a volley at his flank, killing the mage that would have gotten Linhardt. 

Byleth’s ears were ringing as the knight continued to taunt her from the front of the room. Byleth charged at the knight, extending her sword into a vicious whip. 

“Come at me, Fell Star,” he taunted, moving to meet her in combat.

“My name is Byleth,” she grit out as she parried his strike. 

They traded blows with one another as she tried to keep an eye on those near by. Now that the archers were gone they were moving to finish the remaining mages. Byleth fully returned her attention to the knight. 

“You are nothing, child of the goddess.” 

He charged at her with his horse and Byleth ducked low, catching it in the side. It buckled underneath the knight and he rolled off, regaining his footing before Byleth could strike a blow. He rounded on Byleth, swinging with the kind of vigour only afforded by rage. She struck him with a Thoron spell, searing the flesh under his armour. He fell to his knees in front of her. As Byleth lifted her sword for the finishing blow a screeching cry rang out that made her blood run cold.

She turned to see Claude’s wyvern Chrom fall, his white chest stained blood red. Claude’s foot was caught in the stirrup and he hit the ground as Chrom fell on top of him. Byleth watched in horror as as the archer they failed to see moved forward and finished Claude with a dagger. Byleth screamed as she turned back time once more. 

The knight was charging at her with his horse again and instead of attacking she turned behind her to where Claude was firing an arrow at a mage. The archer was right where she expected him to be. Byleth cast a far reaching Thunder spell and struck him down. Claude saw the flash, moving quickly to find Byleth, eyes blown wide with fear as the great knight’s blade struck her. 

She anticipated the blow, knowing there was no way to avoid it and kill the archer at the same time. Byleth turned and plunged the sword of the creator into the knight’s chest at the moment his blade hit her. She let go of the sword and the rider left with it embedded in his body.

Byleth’s ability to manipulate time was powerful when a split-second decision needed to be retracted or when the unexpected happened and needed an amendment. It allowed for a momentary recalculation, an adjustment, but it never offered much in the way of future telling. If it did she would have considered lingering on Claude’s chest this morning, resting against him as she listened to his heartbeat while she felt the steady rise and fall of his breath. She might have kissed him breathless before they left, or considered mentioning to him that she was considering travelling to Almyra, eventually, when all of this was done. 

As her powers were unable to let her glimpse that far into the future, she did and said none of these things. It was difficult to share the depths of herself with anyone, even Claude. Byleth kept telling herself that there would be time for all of this later. After their investigation. After the defeat of Those Who Slither in the Dark. After their scheme concluded. They would talk and she would tell him everything; about her abilities, about her feelings for him, and anything else she was holding back.

She considered these regrets as her consciousness ebbed. Byleth’s was exhausted as she made a final, futile attempt to rewind time. She was unable to focus, the blood from her wound unrelenting even as Claude pressed into it with his hands. She heard him yelling for Linhardt. She gladly accepted the darkness that greeted her, knowing that in exchange for herself she kept the person she loved safe.

***

Claude’s was unsure how much time passed. His voice was hoarse by the time Linhardt reached them. Claude barely remembered following Linhardt’s instructions as he watched him try and repair the deepest parts of the wound. Byleth eyes fluttered shut and she was unconscious, paled by blood loss. He held her head in his lap and stroked her hair while Linhardt worked. Things were happening around him of which he was only vaguely aware. 

Hilda kneels down beside him and closes a hand over his. “Linhardt’s done all he can. We have to move her, Claude.”

“She shouldn’t have been alone.” His voice cracks as he speaks. “No one saw that archer. She couldn’t have known he was there.”

“She wanted to protect you.” Claude feels Hilda’s hand rubbing slow circles across his back. “That’s what she does.” 

In his mind he could see the knight striking Byleth down. She moved as though she expected it, knew exactly how and where to strike the archer, entirely unsurprised as the knight’s blade met her body. It reminded him of the fierce look on her face when she struck down the mage in Abyss. Lysithea had said something strangely similar to Hilda at the time. 

Claude turns to Hilda, looking away from Byleth for the first moment since she fell. “How does she always know?” 

“Hmm?” 

He reads the concern in Hilda’s voice, imagining what he must look like with blood-covered hands clinging to Byleth. 

“You and Lysithea said she’s always in the middle of things, protecting everyone else. It’s like she knows what’s going to happen,” Claude continues.

He can see by the look on Hilda’s face that she thinks he’s lost it. 

Hilda frowns and he feels her hand tighten over his. “Claude, honey, we need to get out of here and get Byleth somewhere safe. I think we should go to my place. It’s closer than the monastery and we need to regroup.” 

Claude takes a moment to survey the room. Linhardt is nearby conferring with Lysithea while Sylvain and Leonie keep watch. The room had been cleared when Byleth went down but Claude knows they can’t risk waiting around for someone to find them like this. Hilda’s suggestion of heading to Goneril territory is a good one.

Claude knows he needs to take charge and put his feelings aside for now for everyone's sake. Claude gathers Byleth in his arms as he stands, whistling for Chrom to come to him. He asks Hilda to help into the saddle as he gets Byleth settled in front of him. 

“Linhardt,” Claude calls out, “ride with Hilda and stick close to us. Leonie, I need you to fly in front as the forward scout. Lys, grab Linhardt’s horse and ride with Sylvain. From here it shouldn’t take you too long to get to Goneril and we can meet you there.” 

They all fall in line and disperse quickly, leaving the eerie underground city behind. Claude knows perhaps they should have stayed to do more scouting and find more information, but they were hardly equipped to be successful. Linhardt is a talented healer and has likely managed to fix the worst of the damage but Byleth will need care and rest. 

Her skin is clammy where she rests against him and Claude holds her close as he wills Chrom to get them to Goneril as quickly as he can. Claude blinks away the tears that begin to form in his eyes. He’s suffered many things in his life, though he’s not sure any of them compare to watching Byleth take a near-death strike. Claude knows it was for him. Somehow she knew there was an archer behind him and chose to strike them down instead of countering the knight charging her. It was in the way she looked at him that he knew, deep down, it hadn’t been a coincidence.  
  
They reach Goneril that evening, pushing their mounts to fly in low visibility and landing in the dark at the Locket. The Goneril soldiers are surprised to see visitors but they snap to attention as soon as they hear Hilda. 

She immediately asks one of them to run ahead and call the house physician, dictating which guest rooms should be opened up, and asking for riders to head down the road to escort Lysithea and Sylvain safely inside. Claude follows dutifully behind her with Byleth still firmly in place against his chest. Leonie walks beside him, diligently keeping watch even though they are in friendly territory. 

Hilda leads Claude to the guest room where the bed has been turned down and the doctor is waiting for them. He gently lays Byleth down and takes a step back to let the doctor examine her. Linhardt steps forward to speak with them and offer his assistance. 

Claude takes a deep breath and feels the last dregs of adrenaline leave his body. Hilda pulls him out into the hallway and he reluctantly follows, leaving Leonie to watch over Byleth in his absence. 

Hilda captures him in a hug as soon as they leave the doorway and Claude sags against her. “She’s going to be okay Claude.” 

“I can't lose her Hils. Not now, not after all of this.” He fails to hide the fear in his voice and Hilda squeezes him tighter. 

They stand in the hallway together for a long time, with years of friendship showing through their comfortable silence. They are interrupted by a loud voice calling for Hilda down the hall. 

Holst Goneril is unmistakable: a towering man with broad shoulders and messy pink hair. He gathers Hilda up into a hug. 

“Always with the dramatic entrances Hilly-beans.”

“Now is not the time Holst.” Hilda chides him with a small smile.

Holst extends his hand to Claude and pulls him into a hug of his own. “Nice to see you again Claude. Wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me too,” Claude says as he pats Holst on the back. 

Claude had met Holst a few times throughout the war when he was still sovereign Duke and he genuinely liked the man. Many stories existed about the ferociously talented Alliance general—on both sides of the border, if Claude was honest. Claude was pleased to find Holst had a heart nearly as big as Hilda’s once you got past the intimidating exterior. 

“So you gonna tell me what the hell happened and how you ended up here?” 

Claude groaned as he rubbed a hand over his face. He felt the exhaustion settling into his body and weighing him down. 

“There’s a creepy underground city full of these total weirdos who hate the church. We went to investigate because Byleth asked us to and they attacked us.” Hilda spoke in a rush, putting on her best pouting voice. “Did I mention that they’re basically in Goneril territory and they’ve been there _forever_ and no one even knew?” 

That set Holst off pretty quickly. Within the next quarter of an hour he’d put together a plan for an elite group of Goneril soldiers to put up a camp at the entrance of Shambhala and capture anyone they encountered leaving the city. He could dedicate further resources if Claude wished for them to take the city.

“Thank you my friend,” Claude said earnestly. “You’ve done more than enough. I’m hoping we can stay until Byleth recovers and you’ll keep news of her injury well guarded.” 

“Stay as long as you need to.” Holst pressed a fist to his chest and bowed and, though it was wholly unnecessary, Claude appreciated the gesture. 

Holst gave Hilda a kiss on the cheek and took off down the hallway to give orders to his soldiers. Claude leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, letting a sigh escape him in spite of the lump in his throat. He felt the moment he stopped moving he might fall apart. He willed his eyes open again and saw Hilda mirroring him, leaning against the opposite wall. 

“You love her, don’t you?” Hilda’s voice was just above a whisper; enough that Claude could ignore it if he wanted to. 

“Yeah,” he manages, “I do.” 

“You should tell her,” Hilda says, in that particular way only she can. 

“She told me we were going to talk after all of this.” Claude doesn’t bother hiding the tears that fall. Hilda is one of the few people in the world he can be this honest with. 

Hilda is pulling him into a hug immediately, holding him there until the doctor leaves the room to speak with Claude. 

“How is she?” Hilda asks, taking point. 

This is her house and her physician. It saves Claude from expending more energy. 

“She is sleeping deeply. I am not sure when she might wake but her wounds have been tended. She’ll need lots of rest and someone should stay with her overnight. I’ll return in the morning.” 

Hilda gives the doctor her sincerest thanks and carefully leads Claude back into the guest room. Linhardt and Leonie say goodnight to Claude as Hilda offers to show them to their rooms. 

Claude pulls off his boots and his overcoat before washing his hands in the basin. He does his best to remove the dried blood but will need a proper bath in the morning. He strips off the rest of his clothes and climbs into bed beside Byleth, fast asleep on her back. He lays on his side and watches the steady rhythm of her breathing to assure himself that she is still alive. 

“I think we’re going to have a lot to talk about,” he whispers quietly before succumbing to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically I know that it isn't Sunday, but since I haven't gone to sleep yet I'm going to pretend that I made the deadline on this one. Sorry about that! 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3.


	11. Chapter 11

Byleth dreamt of a battlefield. It was an open plain muddied with blood and rainfall. At its centre Byleth noticed a flash of red light arcing out in a wide circle. She knew it was the Sword of the Creator. She had witnessed this battle before. 

The last time Byleth dreamt this particular scene she had no idea what it meant, knowing nothing of Seiros, Nemesis, or that cursed sword she would be forced to wield. 

Now Byleth watched as Seiros wrenched the sword from Nemesis grip and pushed forward, throwing herself into him. They struggled and Seiros prevailed, pressing him into the ground and plunging a dagger in to Nemesis’ chest over and over. 

Byleth heard Seiros speak and knew unmistakably it was the woman she knew as Rhea. Byleth watched as Rhea crawled toward the bloodied sword and held it close, speaking to her mother. 

_Sothis._

No doubt the goddess would think Byleth foolish for taking a fatal blow on purpose, but she had not been present to admonish Byleth in a long time. 

The dream ended and there was nothing. Byleth submitted to the empty darkness and slept. 

*** 

Claude sat in bed reading over missives from Almyra. It was late enough that night was blending into morning. He’d heard enough admonishment about his sleeping habits from Hilda in the last few days that he thought it best to at least pretend he was getting rest. 

Claude’s eyes wandered over to Byleth’s silent, sleeping form. She had not stirred in three days but she was still breathing. The doctor said it was not unusual for a soldier with such a wound to require this much rest. Claude could not help but think the usual rules did not seem to apply when it came to Byleth. 

Claude often found himself carefully watching for the slow rise and fall of her breathing. Each morning he would rub slow circles across her arms and legs in order to prevent her muscles from seizing. He would talk to her about the reports he received from Almyra and the letters from Fhirdiad regarding the trade agreement he and Dimitri created. There was never a reaction to his touch or his voice. 

Their friends took turns watching Byleth during the day so she would not wake alone. Claude tried his best to maintain a routine. The Gonerils proved to be fantastic hosts and Hilda was very much in her element. They saw nothing of Hilda’s father, who was recently in poor health, but Holst frequently met with Claude and offered his support. There had been no activity from the entrance of Shambhala and Claude suggested they plan for a more fulsome expedition inside the city. 

Claude sighed as he set aside the pile of parchment and turned down the oil lamp on the bedside table. He rolled onto his side to face Byleth’s sleeping form. 

“Please come back,” he whispered into the darkness.

Byleth was still asleep when Claude woke a couple of hours later.

He washed his face in the basin before getting dressed. There was a quiet knock on the door and he called for Lysithea to enter. She requested the early morning shift so she could continue her research in peace without interruptions from Linhardt. Lysithea gave Claude a reassuring pat on the arm before settling herself in the armchair near the bed.

Claude worked to put a smile on his face as he walked from the guest wing to the dining room for breakfast. He hoped it was early enough that few others would be there. Holst’s warm voice greeted Claude as he entered and he was glad to find the two Gonerils were alone. 

“I have a small bit of good news,” Holst said as he stirred his tea. 

Claude sat down next to Holst and took a slice of fresh bread and a cup of tea. Claude began buttering his bread and gestured for Holst to continue. 

“You’ll be pleased to know I’ve found what you’re looking for.” Holst took a sip of tea. “Turns out we have one youngling that was found injured near the border and brought back to be cared for.” 

Claude’s stomach flipped. “Can I see them?” 

“Of course,” Holst smiled. “That’s why I was waiting for you.”

Claude gave Holst an appreciative nod and quickly finished his tea. 

The manor was beginning to come to life as Claude heard the morning chatter of staff and soldiers assuming their posts. Holst greeted nearly everyone they met though he and Claude walked in silence out to the stables. 

The stable hands snapped to attention when they saw Holst approach. 

“At ease, all of you,” Holst laughed. “We’re just here for a visit.” 

They turned back to their work as Holst lead Claude down the row of stalls. 

“We’ve tried to keep her comfortable but I’m sure it’s not what she’s used to,” Holst offered. 

He stopped in front of a large stall, likely meant for birthing foals, and Claude peered inside. Curled up in a nest of hay was a sleeping wyvern. She was a beautiful dark brown colour and her short horns told Claude she was around three years old.

“May I?” 

Claude gestured to the door and Holst nodded. 

“You’ll probably have better luck than my stable hands. They’ve been keeping their distance.”

Claude slid the door open carefully and stepped inside. The wyvern’s eyes opened, peering at Claude with careful caution. He cooed at her in Almyran and was rewarded with curious tilt of the wyvern’s head. Claude stepped forward with his hand extended and the wyvern met him with her snout, huffing a warm breath into his palm. 

“That’s a good girl.”

He moved his hand up her head and rubbed the space between her horns. The wyvern purred as she nudged against him. She was smaller than Chrom and seemed quite affectionate. He hoped Byleth would like her.

Claude turned back to Holst. “She’s perfect.” 

“We never found the rider and she was in bad shape at first. I’m guessing they left her behind,” Holst said. “She’s all yours.” 

“Thank you my friend.” 

Claude gave the wyvern one last pat on the head before closing up the stall and leaving with Holst. 

They chatted about border protocols as they made their way back to the main house and into Holst’s office. The pair were barely settled when Hilda burst through the door.

“Byleth’s awake,” Hilda shouted before they could ask what was wrong. 

Claude gave Holst a rushed apology as he jumped up from his chair and strode toward the door. Hilda grabbed Claude by the wrist and pulled him through the house to the guest wing. He could see Sylvain, Leonie, and Lysithea gathered at the door as they approached. 

“Lin’s in there with the doctor,” Leonie said as Claude approached. 

“She hasn’t seen anyone else,” Sylvain said as he grasped Claude’s shoulder. “We thought you’d want to be the first to talk to her.” 

Claude merely nodded, suddenly unable to find his voice. He carefully pushed open the door and stepped inside. He could see Byleth sitting up against the headboard as the doctor inspected her. Linhardt was standing a few paces away taking notes. 

“Ah, there you are.” Linhardt said as Claude approached the bed. 

Byleth looked up from the doctor and met Claude’s eyes just as she had in Shambhala before he nearly lost her. 

“Hi Claude.” Her voice was quiet and raspy from lack of use. 

“Hey.”

He sat down on the bed next to her and reached out for her hand. The doctor continued his examination for a few more minutes, though it felt like an eternity to Claude. 

“The wound has healed well. The scar will remain but I do not think we need to fear any lasting damage. I recommend you ease back into physical exertion to be cautious.” 

Byleth only nodded in response. 

“Thank you doctor,” Claude replied. “We appreciate your help.” 

The doctor quickly collected his tools and left the room with Linhardt following behind him. They watched as the door closed and the room was silent. Claude gently squeezed Byleth’s hand, unsure where to start now that they were alone. Byleth returned the gesture but said nothing. 

Claude kicked off his boots before settling back against the headboard, mirroring Byleth’s position next to him. Their hands remained clasped between them. They sat in still silence for a while. Claude couldn’t muster the courage to ask any of the questions occupying his mind for the past three days. He thought his silence might coax Byleth into speaking. When she finally did, it was the last thing he expected to hear.

“I know where Rhea is.”

“What?” Claude stammered, incredulous. 

“Rhea,” Byleth repeated, as though he had not heard her. “I know where she’s hiding and I’m going to find her.” 

Claude turned to look at Byleth, who was still staring straight ahead with fierce determination. Her face was still a bit pale and she had not eaten anything in three days. He could hardly imagine her charging off to confront Rhea.

“You almost died.” 

Claude noticed her flinch, so subtle he might have missed it had he not been studying her face so carefully. She continued to avoid looking at him. He waited, tracing small circles over her hand with his thumb. She made no move to let go of him.

“Byleth.” His voice was gentle, pleading. 

When Byleth finally turned toward Claude her face was unreadable even to him. Words died on his tongue. 

“I need answers and she’s the only one that has them.” 

It sounded as though she was the one pleading with him now. She held fast to Claude’s hand, staring back at him defiantly. It was the most serious he had seen her.

“I’m going after her.” She said it as though he would protest. 

“I know,” Claude replied. “I’m coming with you.”

Byleth faltered for the first time as her eyes moved away from his. 

“I can do this on my own.” Her voice was quiet and firm. 

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” Claude argued. “You don’t have to. I’m coming with you.” 

Byleth drew her hand away. Claude’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. Nothing about this conversation was going according to plan. He adjusted so he was sitting across from her on the bed. Though she was not looking at him they were at least facing one another more directly. Claude took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he spoke again.

“You said we should talk.”

Byleth lifted her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, curling in on herself. She looked as though she wished the headboard would swallow her whole.

“I said we would talk when all of this was over,” she said quietly.

Claude shook his head. “We agreed to communicate with one another.”

“I have nothing to say.” 

Claude could clearly see it was a stalemate. He was unsure what had changed since the night before Shambhala. Byleth was focused on seeking out Rhea, though he did not know where the information about the former Archbishop’s location had come from. 

He could see Byleth rebuilding the wall between them that he had so tirelessly worked to tear down. Claude watched her nearly die and he couldn’t lose her like this. 

Claude realized in that moment that it would be unfair to tell Byleth he loved her. He knew she cared for him; telling her he loved her wouldn’t change that. Claude had observed enough to know Byleth held little regard for her own well-being. If she was trying to dissuade him, it was intentional.

“Stop pushing me away, Byleth. It’s not working.” He dared to move closer, kneeling in front of her. 

She stared back at him, arms falling to her sides. “Why not?”  
  
Claude reached for her hands and she met him halfway, winding their fingers together. “I’m here because I care about you. You’re not a sword, or a symbol, or the leader of an army. I appreciate who you are, Byleth.”

“You don’t know what I really am,” she said, voice forlorn. She looked conflicted.

“Is this about your power?” Claude asked gently. He hadn’t quite put the puzzle together but he knew he was only missing a few key pieces.

Byleth blanched, staring back in fear. 

“I haven’t completely figured it out, but I get the sense you can predict the future or something like that. I know you’ve saved my life twice when it shouldn’t have been possible.” Claude spoke carefully, hoping she would not try to push him away.

Byleth was evaluating him, scrutinizing every feature of his face and posture, but she did not let go of his hands. She pulled him in closer and he was utterly captivated by her. 

“I can’t predict anything,” Byleth managed to say. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I can only go back a few moments and it has to be immediately after something happens.” 

Claude silently nodded to acknowledge what she said, unwilling to interrupt in case she decided to stop sharing with him.

“Sothis gave me this power. She called it turning back the hands of time. The Divine Pulse. It’s meant to change an outcome. At least that’s how I used it.”

Claude remembered the way Byleth stared at him in Shambhala, knowingly accepting the blow from the lance as soon as she knew the archer was dealt with.

“The archer—,” Claude started.

“No one saw him. He…killed you.”

A shiver ran down Claude’s spine. She prevented his death and he hadn’t even known. He had no memory of it happening. 

“I had this strange feeling something was off but I don’t remember anything other than what happened. But you do?” 

Byleth replied with a curt nod. “I remember it all.” 

It had been a wonder all of the students from the Officer’s Academy survived the war, save for Edelgard and Hubert who were defiant to the last. Claude, who received second hand accounts of everything, was envious of Byleth’s mastery of battlefield tactics. She managed the impossible and he had been jealous of her. He resents those feelings now that he knows the truth.

“Your nightmares,” he said aloud as the realization dawned on him. 

Byleth’s voice faltered. “All the things no one else knows. They only happened to me.” 

Claude opened his arms to her, pulling her in close to his chest. “You never told anyone?” 

“Who would I have told? Gilbert and Rodrigue only cared about reclaiming Faerghus and putting Dimitri on the throne. I didn’t want them to abuse my power. I needed to look after everyone, not just Dimitri.”

Claude heard her take a few deep breaths and waited for her to speak, knowing the dam had finally broken. 

“I prevented deaths and gruesome injuries. I gave orders and changed things from a distance where I could or I took the hits myself.” 

“Did it always take so much out of you?” 

“No,” Byleth said carefully. “I’m not sure why. I thought it might be because I hadn’t used it since the war.”

Claude remembered the way Byleth appeared before him in Abyss and took down the dark mage. He thought she had been severely impacted by her injury when it was actually that she had turned back time. He could probably guess what the outcome would have been if she hadn’t intervened.

Claude kissed her forehead. “Sorry you’ve carried this on your own for so long.” 

“I never expected anyone to notice.” Byleth’s voice held an edge of sadness that cut Claude to his core.

“I like to think I’m pretty clever.” The joke fell flat between them.

Byleth pulled away from him suddenly, creating space between them as she stared at his chest. She took a breath to steady herself. 

“I need to be honest with you. I’ve only ever used my power outside of battle once,” Byleth’s words were rushed, as if she might lose her nerve. “It was with you, in our room at the monastery. Remember when I surprised you with wine and dessert?” 

Her voice trailed off as Claude thought back to that night when their conversation abruptly ended and they went to sleep in awkward silence. 

“I had this strange feeling I missed something. Suddenly things were different between us,” he said absently, looking at Byleth. With a smirk he added, “I remembered how badly I wanted to kiss you.” 

“You did,” she said, looking up at him. Claude failed to hide his surprise. “Things were moving so quickly that I panicked. I didn’t know what to do.” 

Claude’s stomach dropped at her confession. Things between them have progressed since that night but the thought that he may have acted inappropriately made him ill. “Byleth I’m sorry if I did something—” 

“No, I very much wanted you to kiss me.” Byleth cheeks flushed red at the admission. “Well, we kissed each other really, and then things were _progressing_ pretty fast. We hadn’t talked about anything and I didn’t know what to do. I turned back time without thinking. ” 

Claude remembers the fallout of that evening. Byleth avoided him for days and he wasn’t sure what changed. He agonized over it. 

“I didn’t know what I had done wrong,” he said quietly. “You barely looked at me. We didn’t talk.” 

Byleth lifted her hands to frame his face. “I’m sorry for how I acted. I didn’t think I could tell you I turned back time and I felt overwhelmed about something that never happened.” 

Claude looked down into her eyes and could see remorse written all over her face. This explained her erratic behaviour at the monastery and why they seemed so suddenly out of sync. She was afraid. 

Claude gave her a gentle smile. “I forgive you.”

“Why?” Byleth stammered, shocked. 

Claude leaned into her touch, urging her to keep holding him. “I hated not knowing what was wrong between us but I understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“I know. It’s okay.” 

Byleth pulled his face toward hers to let their foreheads rest against one another. Claude relished being close to her again. He let his eyes close as they sat together for a few moments. 

“So about that kiss you turned back time on.” Claude’s voice was low, suggestive. “Care to show me what I missed?” 

Byleth let out a breathy laugh that Claude felt on his skin. “We didn’t make it very far.”

She moved closer to Claude and put his hands on her lower back, just under the hem of her nightshirt, before undoing a few buttons on his shirt to let her hands rest on his bare chest. Their noses brushed together as she looked up at him. 

“This is about where I stopped,” she said. “Right before we hit the bed.” 

Claude’s fingertips gently brushed against her skin. “I get the idea.” 

“And,” Byleth continued, “as much as I want to pick up where we left off, I’m starving.” 

Claude laughed as he kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me get you something to eat.” 

***  
  
Byleth spent most of her day catching up on what she missed. She had lunch and a hot bath before visiting with her friends, who insisted she continue to rest. What that actually meant was all of them piled onto the bed with her, which was probably too rambunctious to be restful, but she didn’t have the heart to tell them. 

Claude was on the periphery of things for the entire day, checking in frequently while he carried on with his work. Byleth found herself smiling every time he entered the room. She could hardly believe he was so willing to forgive her, so understanding of her feelings even when she wasn’t. The warmth she felt for him stirred inside her chest. She was fairly certain she knew what it was.

When Claude returned that evening he was grinning, a rare display of genuine happiness that he took no effort to hide. Waiting for him to wash his face and change for sleep felt like an eternity. Byleth smiles when he finally climbs into bed, taking the first opportunity she’s had to snuggle against him.

“I missed you.” She says as she presses kisses to his neck.

Claude’s hand ghosts against the skin of her arm, making her shiver.

“I want you to promise me something, Byleth.” His tone is serious and she props herself up to look at him. “Don’t do anything like that again. Don’t think you can trade your life for mine. You aren’t disposable.” 

He looks determined, green eyes fixed on hers.

She feels exposed in front of him. Byleth never felt as though anyone looked closely enough to see her under everything that was ascribed to her—Ashen Demon, professor, chosen one, Archbishop. There was something about Claude that made him immune to all of those things. He was always searching for more, noticing things others missed, and asking the right questions. 

Byleth acquiesces with a nod, unsure what to say. 

Claude shifts the conversation. 

“I’m going to help you go after Rhea. We said we’d see this thing through together. Tomorrow we can talk about logistics but tonight you should—”

“I swear Claude if you tell me to rest,” Byleth interrupts, frowning. 

He laughs as he pulls her closer. “I was going to say _relax_.” 

“How is that different?” 

“You got me there.” He smiles as he brushes a piece of stray hair behind her ear. “What would you suggest instead?” 

She’s struck by the strange realization that he’s asking her what she wants and he’s perfectly willing to indulge her. Byleth can’t count the number of times she’s felt herself straining under the weight of responsibility. Now she feels light with possibilities. Byleth stares at the man beneath her wondering if she might let herself be happy with him. 

She traces Claude’s exposed collarbone with her finger. 

“I thought we could pick up where we left off earlier,” Byleth says decisively. “And I won’t take it back.” 

For once Claude fails to come up with a witty response, stunned into momentary silence before he pulls Byleth against him and kisses her. Byleth returns the affection without hesitation. She doesn’t think of Rhea, or the scheme, or Almyra. Her mind is filled with the sensation of Claude’s lips against her own, his hands roaming her back, their legs tangled together under the sheets. 

Claude breathes Byleth’s name like he’s invoking her, awakening the depths of her being. She returns the gesture in kind, calling out to him against his skin as if to convey every feeling in a single word. 

Byleth cannot help but think that if her heart could beat it would make itself known in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be flirting with that M rating just a little bit. 
> 
> Serious thanks to all of you wonderful people reading this. For those who sent encouragement and kindness last week when I was struggling to meet a deadline: you are amazing! 
> 
> I didn't make it in time this week but I'm okay with it. This chapter kicked my ass and I did a number of rewrites of particular scenes. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one <3.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussion of character death near the end of the chapter (check the notes at the end for more info)

Byleth woke to the feeling of Claude tracing her hipbone with his thumb before his hand began to travel slowly down her thigh. She let her eyes flutter open to find him staring down at her with the softest expression she’d ever seen him wear. Delighted at the sight, Byleth moved against him to place kisses along his chest. Claude pulled her in closer as he kissed her forehead. 

“You feeling better?” 

“Definitely.” Byleth leaned back to kiss him, smiling as she thought of everything that happened the night before.

“I remember every moment,” he said quietly. There was a note of apprehension in his voice. 

Byleth ran her hand along his cheek, tracing the now familiar coarseness of his beard under her fingertips. 

“I wouldn’t want to take any of it back.” 

Claude did not say anything. He kissed her again, slow and deliberate. Byleth melted into the feeling of Claude mapping her skin, pulling him so close it was hard to know where she ended and he began. The night before had been its own conversation, conveying everything they needed to without uttering a single word. 

They were closer to the goal of solving their mystery. They would leave Goneril territory to seek out Rhea at Zanado. Every instinct told Byleth that Rhea would have retreated to the Red Canyon. Once they dealt with Rhea they would return to the monastery and decide how to conclude their scheme.

“What’s the matter Byleth?” Claude’s voice is gentle as it pulls her out of her thoughts. 

“I want to see this through. I want answers.” It is the only thing she can think to say. 

For a moment the corner of his mouth shifts downward a fraction before Claude quickly recovers, his face returning to a warm smile in an instant. She’s unsure of its significance. 

“I have a surprise that may help in that regard.” Claude winks and Byleth briefly wonders what sort of trouble he got into while she was asleep. “Unfortunately it means we have to get dressed.” 

Byleth groans as Claude gives a playful kiss to the tip of her nose. He rolls over to pull off the covers and slip out of bed. Byleth pauses for a moment, wondering if the spell will be broken now that they are entering back into the reality of their lives outside of this room. If they chose instead to remain in bed Byleth might have been able to imagine that they were different people living an entirely different version of their lives. She takes a deep breath and lets her feet touch the floor. The shock of her warm feet meeting cold stone takes all the magic out of the room.

At breakfast they meet with Holst and their companions to announce that they will be leaving Goneril territory. The intention is to take their small party and head east as though they are returning to Garreg Mach before detouring south to the Oghma Mountains and into Zanado. Byleth does not intend to reveal the details of their travel to their party until they are on the road; Claude agreed it would be safest that way. 

“You’ve only just recovered,” Holst says, looking over at Byleth with concern. 

Byleth hasn’t had much time to engage with the eldest Goneril, given she has been unconscious for the majority of her stay, but she thinks she would like him. She notices a few of the things Hilda has mentioned before—particularly the overprotective streak.

“We’ve already overstayed our welcome I’m sure,” Byleth replies. 

“We should be getting back to the monastery. We’ve gone a bit off schedule,” Claude interjects easily. His hand rests on Byleth’s thigh under the table and she can feel him give a reassuring squeeze. 

“Ah, the wedding! How could I forget? It’ll be quite the event I’m sure. If you’re looking for a location we would be happy for you to host it here at the Throat. It is on the border of the two nations, which should lend to its appeal.” 

Holst’s voice is warm and well intentioned but Byleth can’t help the way she tenses at the mention of the wedding. Claude must note the rigidity of her limbs because he removes his hand from her leg. 

“That’s so kind big brother but I think they’re getting married in Almyra.” Hilda smiles sweetly at Holst before turning to Claude and Byleth. “Though if you wanted to change your plans I wouldn’t be opposed.” 

Hilda gives them knowing look and Byleth wonders if Claude has already told Hilda about the night before. Byleth’s chest pulls tight as she feels the gaze of too many eyes on her at once. She cannot will herself to say anything and for a moment wishes she had her sword at her hip if only for its reassuring weight. 

“Thank you both,” Claude replies easily, “but we still intend to go to Almyra.” 

Byleth manages to stiffly nod her agreement. 

“I’ve always wanted to know more of Almyra,” Holst muses. “I hope you’ll consider inviting us.”

A chorus of agreement erupts from the rest of their friends, who until that moment hadn’t been interested in the conversation. Voices blur together as everyone speaks at once. They ask Claude what the capital is like and the best means of travel from the border. What the ceremony will be like. How may people will be there? What’s the appropriate dress attire? 

Byleth’s ears are ringing. All of the air in her lungs has suddenly escaped. She is rooted firmly to her chair as she tries to breathe. She cannot bear to hear this much about a wedding that will never happen—especially when a small part of her wishes that it would. 

Byleth abruptly stands, the sound of her chair scraping against the floor interrupting the exuberant wedding discussion. Everyone turns to look at her. 

“Sorry,” she stutters, flexing her hands as she tries to grasp at any means of escape.

“Right, your surprise!” Claude jumps up next to her. “I know you were excited about it. I’m sorry I got carried away.” 

He makes a show of taking Byleth’s hand and asking everyone to excuse them before leading her out of the dining room. When they are a few steps down the hall she finds herself taking deep breaths. Claude continues to hold her hand as he leads her through the halls and out onto the grounds. The fresh air is a relief. 

“What happened in there?”

Claude draws Byleth in close so that they’re facing one another. She can see concern written across his face, reminiscent of the first time he’d seen her panic like this. 

Byleth can’t will herself to tell him she’s upset about their fake wedding. That she doesn’t want to have to watch Claude leave for Almyra again. She hates the idea of telling him she’d like to go with him, imagining how it would look to chase after a king she’d had no interest in before this arrangement. There’s no escaping his title or his duty. It was easy for her to forget when their bodies were pressed together the night before. Now the thought sits in her stomach like a stone. 

The feelings are too complex to pull apart. Byleth blurts out the only tangible thing she can think to be upset about. 

“Did you tell Hilda we had sex?”

“What?” Claude pulls his hand away with an incredulous look. He watches her quietly for a few moments, searching with those too-keen eyes. Finally he says, “I wouldn’t do that, Byleth.”

Byleth turns away sheepishly, unable to meet his eyes. “Then why did she say she’d be fine with changing our minds about the wedding? She knows what this is.”

“She’s my best friend.” His voice is low when he speaks again. “She knows that I...care about you. That’s all she meant by it.” 

Byleth dares to look at him. Claude’s face holds a rare, indecipherable look that makes her stomach turn. He’s watching her with the full force of his perceptive stare as he waits for her to speak. Byleth knows she should explain that she doesn’t want to lose him. She doesn’t know how. She cannot find the words she needs. They are buried too deep for her to unearth before the moment passes. 

Claude turns away from her and gestures to the stables. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you the surprise.”

Byleth silently follows Claude through the grounds and into the stable, kicking herself for her lack of ability to manage the torrent of feelings inside of her. She wishes she could speak to her father about all of this, knowing he’d be able to help. Instead she settles for staring at Claude as he walks away. 

Byleth traces the lines of his shoulders with her eyes, catalogues the movements of his legs, watches the way his hands shift with his body. Byleth wants to commit every bit of Claude to memory, knowing that once they’ve dealt with Rhea he’ll be free to go back to Almyra. 

Before they reach the end of the row of stalls he stops, turning to face her again. The stables are filled with beautiful horses and Byleth wonders for a moment if one of them is Claude’s gift. 

He turns toward her with a small smile. Byleth feels relieved to see it, mirroring it with one of her own. Perhaps he has forgotten her stupid question.

“Well, this is it,” Claude says as he slides open the door to the stall. 

Byleth is surprised to see there is not a horse inside but a wyvern, smaller than Chrom with a beautiful brown colouring. The wyvern lifts its head to look at them, making a sound akin to a purr when she sees Claude. Byleth’s eyes move between Claude and the wyvern.

Claude is gentle as he takes Byleth’s hand and leads her closer to the wyvern. He says something in Almyran and the wyvern slowly stands up. Claude takes Byleth’s hand and places it on the wyvern’s forehead. Byleth rubs slow, gentle circles just as she learned to do with Chrom and the wyvern begins purring in earnest. 

“Holst said some of his men recovered her from this side of the border. She was injured but it’s hard to say what happened to her rider,” Claude paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts before speaking again. “I asked if I could keep her. For you.” 

“Me?” Byleth can’t help the surprise in her voice. She’d gotten used to flying but she wasn’t sure she was ready for her own mount.

Claude can read her tone easily. “You’ve been doing well with Chrom and I think you’re ready for this.”

Byleth gives a firm nod, hoping she appears more confident than she feels.

Claude’s eyes search her face. “Besides, you won’t be able to ride double with me forever.” 

Byleth feels a sharp pang in her chest. “No, I guess not.” 

There’s an edge to her voice when she says it. Claude’s eyes are stuck on her but he says nothing further. Byleth waits a few moments, hoping she will think of something to atone for her blunder. She comes up short. 

“It’s a kind gift. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always,” he says, so quiet she might have missed it. 

They are at a standstill for a few moments simply staring at one another. Byleth knows every instinct is failing her in this moment. This is not something she can solve with sword or strategy and unfortunately she isn’t prepared. She wills herself to be brave, trying to finally give voice to the feelings that have taken root inside. Claude is studying her carefully as she chews on her lip, the short distance between them too large for her to offer a coherent thought. 

The wyvern nudges Byleth’s side to demand more attention and Byleth breaks eye contact with Claude. Byleth rubs the wyvern’s neck and scratches under her chin, revealing a warm red colouring on the wyvern’s chest. 

“Does she have a name?” Byleth asks with a fleeting glance at Claude.

“If she did we don’t know it. I guess that’s up to you.” Claude leans against the stable door as he watches them together.

Byleth looks down at the wyvern. She looks a bit small but she has a sweet voice and beautiful colouring. She reminds Byleth of a bird.

“I think I’ll call her Robin.” 

Claude smiles. “It suits her.” 

Byleth nods as she strokes Robin’s head. The space is quiet save for the purr of the wyvern who is pleased to be the centre of attention. Byleth is stalling, unsure what happens next. She feels as though she’s trying to follow the steps to a dance she’s never learned; all of her movements are clumsy and incorrect. 

“Well, I suppose we should go pack,” Claude offers to the silence. 

“I’m going to stay a little while longer,” Byleth says over her shoulder. 

Claude quietly leaves the stables and Byleth gives a defeated sigh as she brings her head to rest against Robin. Byleth is sure no one could have imagined someone called the _Ashen Demon_ could be prone to such cowardice. 

***

Things shifted when they left Goneril territory. Claude was expecting it. He would not call their interactions cold but they were a long way from warm. Byleth hardly spoke to him over the course of their trip here, doing only what was needed to maintain appearances. He could practically see Byleth laying the stones for the wall she was building around herself.

He hadn’t expected how much it would bother him. 

Claude was the one who had said they could keep things casual and enjoy each other’s company while they could. He knew he was holding back in spite of their agreement to communicate openly. Byleth had been so overburdened by the expectations of others that he couldn’t find the will to ask any more of her than she was willing to give. He would take only what was offered.

He never expected the heady feeling that Byleth’s lips traversing his body left in their wake. That he would relish the way she shivered with excitement when he touched her. Her fingers running through his hair. The warmth of her surrounding him. 

Claude shakes the vision from his mind. That night felt like a dream, leaving him to imagine an entirely different life. One where he is not a king who has fallen in love with a mercenary-turned-Archbishop who is using their fake engagement to abdicate her position.

They are camped on the edge of the canyon. It is warm, dry, and by all accounts abandoned. Claude knows things will be coming to a close. Rhea is the last piece of this puzzle. Byleth never revealed how she knew Rhea was here and Claude thought to ask her about it more than a few times. Fear always got the best of him. Hilda calling him out on his feelings was one thing—she always did that— but willingly divulging his feelings was another thing entirely. 

Claude hears a snap near the front of the tent and his eyes fly open immediately, hand going for his dagger as he sits up. In place of an intruder he finds Byleth fully dressed, eyes squeezed shut as she swears under her breath. The lack of sound outside tells him just out how late it is. 

“Where are you going?” Claude hisses, adrenaline coursing. 

“To find Rhea.” Byleth’s hand is poised to pull open the tent flap. 

Claude begins to pull on his boots. “Not alone.” 

Her other hand flexes around the pommel of the Sword of the Creator. “I’ll be fine.” 

Claude gives an empty laugh. “We’re both pretty sure this is Seiros. _The_ Seiros. And the Immortal One.” 

“That’s why I didn’t tell anyone why we came here.” Byleth huffs as she stares back at him, unfazed. 

They had agreed on that piece of the plan. Claude knew no one in their party held any particular love for Rhea, or the system she had created, but they were liabilities. Rhea was too unpredictable. The only thing she seemed to care about was Byleth. Claude hadn’t imagined Byleth would try to sneak off and leave him behind. 

She moves to leave the tent while he’s dressing.

Claude calls out to her in a harsh whisper. “You know I’ll be able to track you. Might as well wait.”

She sighs as the fabric door of the tent falls slack, making no further moves to leave until Claude’s bow and quiver are slung over his shoulder. 

They make their way through the trio of tents, moving through the brush and canyon rock. Byleth presses forward with silent determination, somehow entirely sure of where she’s meant to go. Claude follows. He ignores the feelings of uncertainty about his relationship with Byleth in favour of surveying their surroundings. The space is eerily quiet as they traverse the rocky terrain. Claude realizes he has no idea why they call it the Red Canyon.

Byleth stops just ahead of him, inclining her chin to gesture to a cave. Claude nods in acknowledgement and they move forward together. There’s a tell-tale line of smoke from what must a small fire inside. Byleth strides toward it with her hand on the pommel of her sword as Claude draws an arrow poised for a quick strike. 

As they get closer Claude hears a woman’s voice humming the tune of a song he doesn’t know. Byleth releases her grip and steps inside the entrance. 

“My child...you’ve come.” The too-sweet voice is unmistakably Rhea’s. 

When he steps into view he sees Rhea standing in front of them in her usual white robes, dirty about the hem from wear. She has a thick cloak hanging off her shoulders and wears none of the usual adornments she had at the monastery. Her face looks gaunt and there are deep circles under her eyes. Claude had not seen her when she was discovered in Enbarr at the end of the war but he remembers Hilda mentioning the former Archbishop being in ill health. 

Byleth does not step any closer to Rhea. Claude follows Byleth’s lead and stands beside her.

Rhea gives Claude a strange look when he steps into view. “I was not expecting you, Duke Riegan.”

Rhea must not have known Claude's heritage. He'd always wondered if she had some inclination. Claude doesn’t correct her. “I always did like to keep you on your toes, Rhea.”

He never cared much for deference to the church. There’s a sharpness to Rhea’s eyes that conveys to Claude that his presence is very much unwelcome. Claude gives a sugary smile, mimicking Rhea's previous tone. 

“This isn’t a social call,” Byleth interjects. 

“Pity,” Rhea’s voice is deceptively calm. She focuses on Byleth with a sigh. “Then I suppose you’ve finally come for answers.” 

“You owe her that much,” Claude scoffs at Rhea's glib response. Byleth puts a hand to Claude’s forearm, a signal for him to step back.

Rhea raises an eyebrow at the familiarity and Claude internally curses his mistake. They are here for Byleth to get answers. He doesn’t need to give Rhea reason to ask questions. 

“Are you alone here?” Byleth asks Rhea.

“After Catherine and Shamir escorted me here they left for Dagda. Catherine was reticent to leave but I commanded it.” Rhea gestures to the entrance of the cave and they move outside. Claude keeps his eyes trained on her. “After all, this was my home.”

“Before the church, you mean?” Claude tries to sound coy, not revealing how much they’ve discovered.

“Long ago.” 

Rhea’s voice is wistful, distant. She isn’t giving them much. Byleth is insistent.

“Before the Agarthans.” 

Byleth’s tone is even and nonthreatening but it does not stop the ferocious snarl that appears on Rhea’s face.

“How dare you,” Rhea hisses. “They are insolent insects. Snivelling creatures who hide underground. They took my mother from me.” 

Rhea’s green eyes flash wildly for a moment before she shrinks back, breathing heavily. Claude knows something is brewing under the surface and it makes him wary. Byleth must suspect the same because Claude sees her soften toward Rhea.

“Tell me about my birth.” Byleth’s voice is as gentle as it is unwavering. 

The anger flaring outward from Rhea dissipates and she takes a chance at approaching Byleth, firmly rooted in place. Claude remains a silent observer in the exchange. He is far enough from Byleth so as not to pique Rhea's interest, yet close enough that he could intervene should Rhea make an attempt at harm.

“I created you.” Rhea smiles fondly at Byleth, making Claude’s stomach turn. “Within you is the Crest Stone of the progenitor god. I thought that I could regain all I had lost if I could revive my mother. I tried to bring her back by creating a body and burying a stone within it. Many times.” 

Claude can feel the tension permeating the air like Almyra's summer humidity, heavy and suffocating. To think Byleth was part of an ongoing experiment facilitated by Rhea makes him furious. Byleth’s rigid posture and clenched fist tells Claude that she feels similarly. 

“One woman I created grew up and fell in love with the captain of the Knights of Seiros.”

“My parents.” 

Claude feels the emotion that lies beneath Byleth's statement, though Rhea doesn't seem to notice. She barrels ahead with her reminiscence.

“In time Sitri became pregnant. But she and the child were not going to survive the birth. The child she bore was not breathing and Sitri was in grave danger. She pleaded with me to take the stone from her body and place it within yours. So I granted her final wish.”

The air stills around them. The way Rhea fondly stares at Byleth makes Claude's hands feel clammy. She's admitted her atrocities outright and acts as though Byleth should appreciate them. Claude is unsure how Byleth will respond. She is silent for a long time before she finally speaks.

“I don’t understand what makes me so special.” 

_More things than I can count_ , Claude thinks to himself, though he knows this isn’t what Byleth means when she directs it at Rhea. 

“Your father is special too." Rhea's voice is warm, missing the tenor of the conversation. She's entirely deluded. "I once saved his life with a transfusion of my own blood. I can only think that my blood in combination with Sothis’ Crest Stone is what made you capable of housing the progenitor god.” 

“You treated me like a vessel for Sothis.” 

Byleth’s voice is taught as a bow string and ready to snap. Claude suppresses the urge to reach out to her, unsure how Rhea would react.

Rhea pleads with Byleth. “I would do anything to see my mother again.” 

“So would I,” Byleth snaps. 

Rhea’s eyes narrow at the retort, sliding from Byleth to Claude and back again. Claude is surprised when Byleth continues speaking.

“Yours is a lonely existence, Seiros. When will you come to reclaim your place as Archbishop?”

Rhea is unperturbed by the use of her true name, as though it were an inevitability Byleth would discover it. Rhea gives an empty laugh. 

“I will not be returning. Centuries upon centuries I have cared for this land and its people through the work of the church. I am slowly dying and my light will leave this world.” Rhea’s voice shifts into one filled with cold fury. “To be undone by a trifling little girl descended from my own bloodline.”

“I think they call that irony.” Claude speaks before he’s unable to stop himself and another flash of green passes over Rhea’s eyes.

Byleth steps in front of him to block Rhea’s path. Claude notices the ferocity of Rhea’s stance and prepares for a fight. Instead Byleth surprises them both. 

“Take the stone out of me." Her voice is cold fury. "I want it gone.” 

Rhea looks horrified. “Sothis gifted you this power. You would lose everything that you are.” 

“I don’t want it,” Byleth bites out as she draws the Sword of the Creator. “I don’t want any of this!”

“You understand nothing.” Rhea’s voice is filled with rage as her eyes glow the strange iridescent green. “Foolish child. You could have eternity.” 

“Fuck eternity!” It is the angriest that Claude has ever seen Byleth. “Give me my _life_ back.” 

Rhea’s eyes bore holes into Byleth. After a few moments the former Archbishop looks resigned, defeated. 

“Kill me and it will be yours.”

The air around Rhea shifts, filling with bright green light and a blood curdling scream. Standing before them in place of Rhea is a monstrous dragon. Claude recognizes it as the dragon he saw so many years before at the monastery: the Immaculate One. 

Byleth wraps both hands around the pommel of the Sword of the Creator and raises it in a defensive position. Claude nocks an arrow and waits to follow Byleth’s lead. Then the Immaculate One speaks.

“Strike me down with the sword made of my mother. I am ready to leave this wretched world.”

Claude watches Byleth step forward with grim determination, striking upward into the dragon’s chest to the centre of her heart. The Immaculate One is resigned to her fate and meets the force of it without flinching. Byleth plunges the sword deeper before withdrawing it in one smooth motion. 

The Immaculate One falls forward onto the stone, muttering _mother_ as her final breath leaves her lungs. 

Byleth’s back is facing Claude as he watches the tell-tale red glow of the heroes relics leave the sword. A moment later it drops from Byleth’s hand with a terrible clatter and before Claude can ask what is wrong Byleth is folding in on herself. 

Claude steps forward to catch her, shouting her name. He gathers her limp body into his arms. He pulls her face toward his ear to listen for her breath, feeling nothing. Claude repeats her name like a mantra as he pushes hair from her face and feels for a pulse at her neck. There is nothing. 

After a moment the mint green of Byleth’s hair and eyes fade to their original deep blue and he is convinced she must be dead. This was all a cruel trick. 

Then, in the strange silence of the canyon, Claude hears the the slow, steady beat of Byleth’s heart for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Rhea asks Byleth to kill her because Rhea is dying.
> 
> Hey y'all! - it's been a minute. I was feeling good about posting once a week and then life came and kicked me in the ass. Things are manageable now but I'm heading into my busiest time at work so I'm anticipating I won't be back to that weekly schedule. I'll aim for every 2 weeks but I make no promises. 
> 
> Thanks for reading/commenting/kudos-ing. Sending lots of love to you all.


	13. Chapter 13

Byleth has very few distinct memories from the haze of her life before the monastery. 

There was an abandoned farmhouse outside of Fhirdiad she and her father Jeralt once took refuge in to escape a particularly bad storm. Byleth remembered a peaked roof and an inconspicuous wooden door with stone walls carefully fitted together with mortar. Inside the floor was rotted out and the plaster crumbling. The roof provided only moderate shelter from the rain but the walls stood well against the wind. There was something reassuring about the way the stone held fast as the rest of the house fell into disrepair.

Byleth’s father was known as the Blade Breaker, a renowned mercenary across Fódlan. Jeralt taught her everything she knew about battle. Every weapon she’d ever learned to hold was a lesson from her father. Every tactic and technique. In battle, skill and strategy were everything.

There was no strategy Byleth knew of to contend with the organ currently laying siege to her chest. She was distressed to learn that you can’t fight feelings. The best she could think to do was wait it out; defend against it until she got a foothold to push back on.

Byleth felt Claude’s fingers gently moving through her hair. She was pressed against his chest, her head fitting easily in the space between his shoulder and neck. The warm, familiar smell of pine on his skin was calming. It did nothing to help the rapid staccato playing against her ribs. She was defeated the moment she woke in Claude’s arms. 

Until a few moments ago Byleth’s heart was a stone, if Rhea was to be believed. The stone saved her life. Its only price was the inability to feel things as other people did. Now she felt everything.

Feelings hit her like a tidal wave; a current she could not escape. Byleth struggled to catch her breath, riding each wave as it hit her. Anger for Rhea’s arrogance. Despair for the loss of her father. Fear for what came next. Through it all she felt the varying rhythm of her heart as it raced erratically, new and foreign inside her body. 

Byleth took a deep breath and pushed herself away from Claude, awkwardly climbing out of his lap.

“Byleth?” She noticed the panicked tone in his voice as he spoke, some new part of her recognizing what it was.

“I’m okay,” she lied, turning away from him as she stood up. 

She made a show of brushing off her clothes, trying to steel herself before she faced Claude. Byleth’s stomach was at odds with her heart, sitting heavy with worry. When she finally turned to face him Byleth felt the beat in her chest pick up, now impossibly fast. It made her dizzy. 

Claude stood still, waiting, green eyes fixed on her and full of concern. Byleth resisted the urge to run back to the safety of his arms. Claude would not be able to shield her from her own feelings. She needed time to sort them out for herself before she could decided what to do about Claude. They remained a few paces apart in a silent, awkward standoff. Claude broke first.

“How do you feel?” 

_How_ she felt was an answer she could evade well enough. _What_ she felt was far more difficult to pin down. 

“I feel fine.”

“You’ve changed,” Claude said as he moved closer to her.

“What?” Byleth stammered. Claude was discerning but it was impossible to tell how much he had figured out. 

“Your hair and eyes. They’re not green anymore.” 

Byleth reached for the ends of her hair, pulling them into her line of sight. The once familiar dark colour now surprised her. Byleth closed her eyes as she reached for the power to turn back time. Nothing came to her. She could no longer feel the lingering trace of magic. 

“Did you see it happen?”

“When you passed out. The Sword of the Creator changed and then you changed. I think the crest stone inside you died when Rhea did.” 

Rhea’s name let loose a torrent inside Byleth. The expectations of the former Archbishop had always weighed heavy around Byleth’s neck. Rhea changed the entire course of Byleth’s life to serve her own whims and it cost the lives of Byleth’s parents. Anger was building within Byleth and she held onto it. Anger provided a cold clarity. She fed the rage that burned inside her; fire in its purest form. 

Byleth bent down to retrieve the Sword of the Creator, no longer pulsing with life. It was still and stiff to the touch. She put it back on her sword belt though she knew it would be next to useless now. She would deal with it later. 

Byleth straightened up as clarity settled over her. With Rhea gone Byleth was nearly done with the church. Unfortunately it meant her time with Claude was coming to a close too. She didn’t want to think about it right now. 

One of the best pieces of advice Byleth's father gave her was to always keep moving. A moving target was always harder to hit. She hoped the same philosophy applied to feelings. So long as she did not stop to let herself get sucked into them she could keep them at bay. 

“We need to get to the monastery,” Byleth said to Claude before striding back toward their camp. 

Claude followed quietly behind her. 

***

Hilda’s admonishment for their disappearance died on her tongue when she noticed Byleth’s hair, staring wide-eyed with confusion. Shock rippled through the group, stunning them into silence.

Byleth gave an order to dismantle camp and leave within the hour, saying nothing further as she began to empty her tent. Everyone else awkwardly obeyed the command while Hilda made a beeline for Claude. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of earshot.

“Explain _that_ ,” Hilda hissed, keeping her voice low. “Where have you been?” 

Claude sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He was exhausted from the confrontation with Rhea and the distance Byleth was trying to maintain. The last thing he needed was one of Hilda’s interrogations.

“Byleth found Rhea in the Red Canyon. We confronted her and she asked Byleth to kill her.” Hilda gasped at this, one hand flying up to her mouth to keep quiet. “She’s dead, Hil. Byleth did as Rhea asked. Then Byleth changed. The connection to the goddess died with Rhea.” 

It was one of few moments Claude could ever recall Hilda being too stunned to speak. She stared at him with utter disbelief. Claude felt it difficult to care. Rhea was a tyrant and the world was better without her in it. Claude’s eyes wandered over to Byleth. She had removed all of their belongings from the tent and was dismantling it. Camp was coming down and they would be heading back to the monastery. Claude felt more uncertain than ever. After everything between them Claude couldn’t help feeling he was going to lose her. 

Hilda gave Claude’s arm a reassuring squeeze, the silent encouragement bolstering his resolve. They rejoined the others. 

Their party was eerily quiet, the usual banter interrupted by Byleth’s mood. Anger radiated from her in waves, more expressive than she had ever been before. Claude was particularly good at reading her usually stoic exterior though it seemed that ability was now irrelevant.

The flight back to the monastery was silent and quick, Byleth pushing Robin to move fast at the front of their convoy. Claude noticed Hilda and Sylvain engaged in a quiet conversation on Hilda’s wyvern and even Linhardt was awake, chatting with Lysithea. Leonie kept a close watch on Byleth. Chrom was agitated beneath Claude, no doubt picking up on Byleth’s mood. 

The moment they landed Byleth was passing Robin off to a stable hand and stalking up the stairs of the monastery. Claude knew there was no reason to stop her. Instead he dismounted, ensured Chrom was taken care of, and silently followed Byleth’s trail. 

Claude saw Byleth silently watching him in her periphery when he finally caught up to her. They ascended the stairs to the second floor and Claude realized Byleth was headed to Seteth’s office. They stopped in front of the door and Byleth gave Claude a brief look, as though she was seeking reassurance. Claude gave her a silent nod, as if to say _I’m with you_ , and Byleth pushed open the door. 

“Excuse me?” Seteth snapped, annoyed, before his eyes landed on Byleth. Seteth froze as he took in her appearance, staring from across the desk. Byleth stopped in front of it, leaning down toward him. 

“Rhea is dead.” Byleth’s voice was sharp, the intention to hurt clear. She was lashing out in a way Claude had never seen before. 

Seteth blanched, momentarily stunned before his fury erupted. 

“What have you done?” Seteth seethed, standing to meet Byleth’s stance. 

“I found her in Zanado.”

Claude noticed something pass over Seteth’s face when Byleth named the place. 

“How?” Seteth’s voice was softer now. 

“She told me what I am. What I was.” Byleth’s voice was deceptively low. “Then she asked me to kill her. I did as she asked.” 

Seteth sunk back into his chair as his composure waned. Claude realized that Seteth and Byleth were having a conversation underneath everything they were saying. Claude couldn’t quite grasp what they were talking about and wondered why Byleth wanted him to enter with her when just this morning she was trying to get away from him. Claude was out of his depth. He wished they could have an honest conversation. He was tired of schemes.

“I know what Rhea was,” Byleth added. This time Claude knew what she was referring to. 

“And me?” Seteth was watching Byleth carefully, ignoring Claude’s presence in the room. 

“I think I’ve figured that out too.” 

“I see.” Seteth leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. 

A tense silence blanketed the room as each person waited for the other to speak. Claude, unsure of his place in all of this, chose to wait. He was here for Byleth. 

“What happens now?” Seteth finally asked, eyes still fixed on Byleth.

“If the church wants to survive it needs to change.” Byleth’s voice was firm, her anger shifting into something else. “The crest system needs to be abolished. No more lies.” 

Claude felt warmth blooming in his chest. To know Byleth wanted to change things only made his feelings for her grow.

“You appear to feel strongly on the subject,” Seteth said pointedly. “Perhaps you could offer guidance to this regard.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Byleth slammed a hand down on the desk. “I’ve been shouldering the responsibility of the church since I walked in regardless of whether it was mine to bear. I am not an empty vessel for a goddess any longer.”

“You don’t understand. Without Rhea the church will fall apart,” Seteth stammered. “It was always her vision.” 

“It needs to change. I know Rhea kept you in the dark with many of the things she did. It doesn’t need to be that way.” Byleth’s voice was softer now. “I know you care about the students and the Officer’s Academy. The church has influence and is positioned to do good work. I will ask Dimitri to support your reforms.” 

Seteth stared back at Byleth before sagging in his chair, relenting. “Fine. I accept.”

“Thank you.” Byleth’s voice was genuine and appreciative. She turned to give Claude a small smile. 

Seteth looked over at Claude with a familiar, resigned gaze. It was one Claude was familiar with during his time as a student. Claude smirked back at Seteth.  
  
“I suppose you will be leaving for Almyra after your wedding,” Seteth added. 

Claude considered how to play this, looking over at Byleth for a hint at what she’d like him to say. He was surprised when she spoke first.

“There isn’t going to be a wedding.” 

Byleth’s voice was quiet, resigned. Claude felt as though he’d been struck, his mind reeling from Byleth’s confession. Claude stepped toward her but Byleth was resolutely looking away from him. 

Seteth was equally surprised. “I beg your pardon?” 

“We aren’t getting married. There won’t be a wedding.”

Claude felt nauseous. They’d spent so long pretending. Byleth was nearly free of the church. To come so close and reveal their secret now before she could leave made no sense. 

Seteth gave voice to Claude’s fear. “Does this mean you will consider being Archbishop?”

Byleth shook her head. “I don’t want to be Archbishop. I never wanted to be Archbishop. Claude agreed to marry me so I could abdicate.”

“Byleth,” Claude managed to interject. He collected himself as best he could. 

Byleth finally turned to face him, stepping closer to put some distance between them and Seteth’s desk. “I can’t let you do this, Claude. Not after everything that’s happened.” 

Her eyes were pleading as they searched his face. In that moment Claude realized he had been holding out hope that she loved him, that they might get married for real. He loved her. Until he loved her he had never minded being alone. Now he wondered if he could bear it. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, reaching out to her. 

“The scheme is over,” Byleth said, voice breaking. “It’s fake, Claude.”

He was so close to her he could see the shine of tears in her eyes. He hazarded a guess at what they meant. Claude took her hand. “Byleth, please. What if I want to marry you?” 

“Don’t do this, Claude,” she pleaded, pulling away from him. 

Seteth was standing now, shock plainly written on his face. “You faked an engagement to avoid the responsibility of Archbishop?”

Byleth rounded on him immediately, moving away from Claude. “No one would let me leave! The last Archbishop was a monster and you supported her. You have no right to judge me. You call yourself a _saint_?”

Seteth balked at the way Byleth spat the word and Claude knew it was important. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Everything he wanted was slipping from his grasp. 

Claude had been in Fódlan for too long. What was meant to be a short escape from his responsibilities and a puzzle he could distract himself with had grown into something else entirely. He would return to Almyra and his role as king and Byleth would disappear just as she always intended. Claude was a heartsick fool. 

Claude quietly slipped out of the room while Seteth and Byleth continued their argument.

***

Seteth pointedly ignored Claude’s departure, focusing instead on what would become of the church. Byleth would no longer be Archbishop but given her relationship with Dimitri she could advocate on the church’s behalf. Seteth kept talking as Byleth’s eyes wandered to the door. 

Byleth wanted to chase after Claude, to try and explain that she wanted to start over. She didn’t want him to think she loved him because of a scheme. She loved him because he was kind and clever. She loved him because he understood her when no one else had. He treated her like an equal. He was passionate. He cared. Byleth wanted a relationship with Claude that was honest and real. 

It was a cruel irony not to know that love had been filling your heart until you found it empty, wanting. Byleth could finally name the feeling she was holding onto for so long. Now it was too late.

Byleth absently wandered from the room, leaving Seteth to his diatribe. She rushed to the third floor, hoping to find Claude in their quarter but they were empty. She began a frantic search of the monastery, moving through the building as quickly as she could.

Lysithea and Linhardt were engaged in a conversation with Hanneman and hadn’t seen Claude at all. The old dormitory hallway was empty. Byleth didn’t bother with the training grounds. The only person she could ever count on to be there was Felix. Byleth found Hilda and Sylvain having tea in the gazebo. 

“Have you seen Claude?” 

“Is everything alright?” Hilda fixed Byleth with a pointed stare, her eyes betraying the sweetness in her voice. 

“I need to talk to him.” 

“Try the stables or the courtyard,” Sylvain offered. “I saw more wyverns landing. I’m guessing it was another Almyran battalion or something. Nader was out there too.” 

“Sylvie, why don’t you have more tea?” Hilda glared at him. 

“Oh, uh, right. See ya Byleth.” 

Byleth started toward the stables, thrown by the odd interaction. Hilda knew something but Byleth was unsure what it was. All of this was too confusing to follow. Byleth needed to find Claude before her courage waned. 

The stables were quiet so Byleth jogged through them to the courtyard. She could hear the commotion as she rounded the corner. A small group of wyverns were gathered there looking as if they just landed. Stable hands rushed about to assist the travellers that dismounted. 

Byleth saw Nader first, standing at attention at the small party in front of him. Claude was standing at his side. Byleth took a deep breath before striding toward them. She would ask Claude for a moment to talk. That’s all she needed to do. 

“Khalid!” A warm voice called out as Claude was enveloped into a hug by two of the travellers. 

As Byleth approached Nader she paused, gaping at the guests. She was suddenly confronted with the two halves that made Claude’s perfect whole. 

Before her was a woman with freckled skin, auburn hair, and striking green eyes standing beside a well-built man with a mess of brown hair, beautiful brown skin, and a beard. Byleth froze beside Nader, unable to move. These were Claude’s parents. There was no mistaking the resemblance.

“Baba. Mama,” Claude greeted them. “What are you doing here?”

“Nader sent us a letter. We were supposed to be visiting Judith but we decided to stop here on the way when we heard the news.” Claude’s mother smiled warmly. She had the same green eyes as Claude. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you’d gotten engaged. We’ve hardly heard from you and you’ve been gone longer than we expected.”

Before Claude could respond Nader’s voice erupted from beside Byleth. 

“And here’s the lucky lady,” Nader laughed as he clapped Byleth on the shoulder. 

Claude turned, surprised to find Byleth standing there. He gave her an odd look that immediately sent guilt running through her. She was interrupting what should have been a private moment between Claude and his parents.

Byleth tried to convey a silent apology, wishing Claude understood she didn’t mean to hurt him more than she already had. She was unsure what to expect. Claude gave Byleth a pointed look suggesting she should follow his lead. She nodded back, watching as Claude put on his telltale fake smile and held out his hand to her. Byleth slipped her fingers into his after a brief pause. She could hardly stand the horrible smile on his face, especially knowing she was the one that put it there. 

“Mama, Baba, allow me to introduce Byleth Eisner, daughter of the Blade Breaker and Archbishop of the Church of Seiros.” 

The use of her titles irked her. Byleth knew Claude did it on purpose. She hardly knew the protocol for these sorts of things. 

“Byleth, this is Lady Tiana von Riegan, Queen of Almyra, and Darius the third, King of Almyra.” 

“Please call me Darius.” Claude’s father reached out a hand to Byleth and she grasped his forearm in return. He smiled warmly at her. Claude’s handsome looks seemed to be inherited from his father.

Byleth turned toward Claude’s mother, who pulled her in for a hug. “And you can call me Tiana. I’m so pleased to meet you. Khalid has told us absolutely nothing about you.” 

Byleth was stunned by her forthrightness. Tiana gave a pointed look at Claude who grinned sheepishly in return. 

“I was going to tell you but things have been pretty busy here. By the way, how long are you staying?”

Tiana shook her head with a sigh. “I thought we could help with the wedding plans. Perhaps we can all travel back together. Let's get settled and we can worry about planning later. I’d like to see Manuela. I’m sure she hasn’t changed a bit.”

“She’s probably in the infirmary. Why don’t you get a head start and I’ll get someone to take care of your bags?” 

Darius and Tiana ascended the stairs to the monastery with Nader, leaving Byleth and Claude standing in the wake of what had just happened. 

Byleth was stunned, trying to gather what she meant to say to Claude when she rushed to the courtyard. “I wanted to talk—”

“I need you to keep pretending we’re engaged,” Claude interrupted, whispering in Byleth’s ear.

“What?”

“For now. Until I can figure something out. Once I smooth things over I’ll be headed back to Almyra with my parents and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.” 

Byleth stared back at him, unsure how to respond. Claude started walking up the steps and Byleth urged herself forward, following after him. Claude was speaking quickly, more to himself than to her as Byleth tried to interrupt. 

“Now we need to get to Seteth—” 

“Claude—”

“We have to tell him we didn’t mean it—”

“Claude, wait—”

“I’m sure I can convince him to play along somehow—”

She needed him to stop moving. She needed to explain. To tell him how she felt. Byleth was tired of pretending. She was tired of holding back and trying to work through everything happening inside of her. The dam finally broke.

“Claude, I’m in love with you!” 

Claude stopped abruptly and Byleth crashed into his back. Claude turned, gaping at her. Everyone in the entrance hall was staring at them. 

“I’m in love with you,” Byleth repeated, quieter this time. 

Claude stood in stunned silence. It was so rare that he was left speechless.

Byleth took Claude’s hands, meeting his gaze. “Let me try and explain.” 

Byleth saw too many lingering eyes in the hall and opted to drag Claude outside where there was a bit more privacy before she tried to convey her feelings to him. 

Byleth took a deep breath. “I have a heart now and all of these feelings I don’t understand how to manage. But I know I love you.” 

“Upstairs you said it was fake.”

“Our engagement _is_ fake. I don’t want to marry you because of a scheme regardless of how I feel. I want to start again in a real relationship.”

“You’re in love with me?” Claude echoed. 

Byleth nodded. “I’ve been trying to sort out how I feel. I didn’t know how to tell you. When you left Seteth’s office I thought that was it and—”

Claude silenced her with a kiss, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Byleth returned it with fervour, running her fingers through his hair. After a few moments they separated, breathless, as Claude pressed his forehead to hers. 

“I love you too, by the way,” he smiled. His real, honest to goddess smile. Byleth laughed and kissed him again. 

“ _Finally_!” they heard Hilda yell from the other side of the hedge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, I'm still here! Made it through a terribly hectic time at work and things are hopefully starting to settle into a routine. This chapter got a bit out of hand and I wasn't sure how to break it up so I hope that in the end it was coherent and flowed well. 
> 
> We're now officially out of angst-town and heading straight to fluff-ville. Probably a chapter or two left. Thanks for sticking around/coming back. There won't be such a long hiatus for the next one.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the fluff!

Claude’s heart is racing in his chest, its rapid rhythm beating happiness against his ribs. Byleth is pressed against him, her dark hair tickling his face. For once he can't help smiling and is at a loss for words. A flash of pink hair bounds around the corner as Hilda crashes into the two of them, wrapping herself around Claude and Byleth to join their hug. 

“I’m so happy for you!” Hilda squeals. “You’re perfect for each other.”

Hilda is buzzing with excitement as she pulls away from them and Claude reluctantly lets go of Byleth. 

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop, Hilda.” Byleth’s admonishment is toothless and Hilda knows it. Byleth presses her lips together in an attempt to stop herself from smiling.

“I can’t help it if you make public confessions of love in the courtyard, ” Hilda retorts in a sugary voice. 

Byleth shakes her head as she moves back to Claude, tucking herself into his side. He wraps an arm around her in return and for a moment thinks about how easily their bodies fit together. 

Hilda clasps her hands together as she speaks. “So I have a few ideas about the wedding. I know you’re probably going to want a bit of time but I think given my relationship with both of you I’m the natural choice to plan it.” 

Claude feels Byleth’s body go rigid at the mention of a wedding. Claude isn’t sure how he feels about it himself and they haven't had a chance to discuss it together.

“I’m going to stop you there, Hil,” Claude interrupts gently. “Byleth and I need to talk about what comes next. My parents have dropped in for a surprise visit and we still need to tell Dimitri about the Agarthans.” 

Hilda’s face immediately falls into a pout.

“Claude’s right. We have a lot to discuss first,” Byleth chimes in. She briefly looks up at Claude before turning her attention back to Hilda. “When we do decide to get married you’ll be the first to know, okay?” 

Hilda shouts her triumph and gives them one last hug before rushing away, talking aloud about guest lists and venues. Claude’s brain is still stuck on Byleth saying _when_ they decided to get married instead of _if._ He wonders briefly if that was an accident. 

Byleth whispering in Claude’s ear pulled him out of his thoughts.

“You’ve got your thinking face on.” 

Claude pulls back a fraction so that he can meet Byleth’s eyes. Their silly scheme has already been the cause of so much miscommunication. He desperately wants to get this right.

“I think we should talk about our expectations for this relationship.” Claude wraps Byleth’s hand up in his own and pulls it to his chest. “I know my position complicates things and you’re still figuring out what you want to do next. I want to be with you in whatever form that needs to take.”

Byleth presses a soft kiss to Claude’s lips, smiling against him. He will never tire of that feeling. 

“I need to formally conclude my responsibilities as Archbishop. We should talk to Seteth and get a letter to Dimitri.” 

“And deal with my parents,” Claude sighs. “They still think we’re engaged.”

Byleth smiles up at him. “We can handle that together, too.” 

Claude rubs a hand over his face, dreading the conversation with his parents. “I won’t be able to stay in Fódlan much longer. I’ve extended my trip once already.” 

Byleth nods, thoughtful for a moment. Claude will commit to writing letters or holding regular diplomatic meetings so that he can come back more often. Perhaps he could pull some favours with Hilda to have Byleth stay in Goneril for a season. It wouldn’t be easy but he would do anything to make this work between them. 

“You know I’ve never actually been to Almyra,” Byleth shrugs.

Claude’s breath catches in his throat as he manages to stumble out a choked, “Oh?” 

Byleth is smiling, happy to catch him out. “Maybe you could help me plan a trip. Do you know anyone I could stay with?” 

Claude hugs Byleth close and pulls her off the ground to spin both of them in a circle. Her resounding laugh is the best response he could have asked for. 

***

Seteth accepted Byleth’s apology with grace and she was glad to reconcile with him. Byleth’s anger was thoroughly directed at Rhea and the corrupt structure she created, not the individuals trapped within in. Seteth agreed reforms were necessary and would take on the work of restructuring the church’s leadership. Byleth was able to recommend a few former students who would no doubt endeavour to support him. 

Claude and Seteth worked together to write up notes for a missive to Dimitri with Byleth’s recommendation for reforms to the crest system. The social hierarchies crests perpetuated were an unfortunate consequence of the Agarthans and Rhea’s actions and it needed to change. 

Professor Hanneman enthusiastically agreed to head the project in Shambhala which would be overseen as a joint effort between the church and the crown. Byleth was certain that other Agarthans would need to be rooted out, especially given their ability to assume identities and blend in. Seteth asked her to consider staying to support the initiative and she promised to think about it.

Byleth and Claude spent the evening having a private dinner with Claude’s parents. Byleth mentioned she was nervous, having no real context for sit-down family dinners, but Claude’s reassurance was enough to get her to the table. 

As it turned out, Claude’s parents were every bit the wonderful people she imagined them to be. They wanted to hear about Byleth’s life and adventures with her students and were all too happy to share embarrassing stories about their son. 

Eventually the two of them came clean about their fake engagement scheme as Claude told the entire story with his own dramatic flare. Byleth would interrupt as needed to correct some embellishments. Claude’s parents listened with rapt attention and waited until the end of the tale to start asking questions. 

“So you aren’t getting married?” Tiana asked over dessert. 

“We don’t have plans to, no,” Claude grinned at Byleth. 

“But you do love each other?” 

“Yes, of course,” Byleth said quietly, smiling. She felt Claude’s hand give her a warm squeeze on her knee under the table. 

“So why not get married?” Tiana pressed.

“Because we aren’t actually engaged, mama.” 

“I’m very confused Khalid. What happened to the simple schemes you used to pull?” Tiana gave Byleth a wink, a practice Byleth knew Claude must have inherited. 

“Maybe if baba hadn’t pushed for me to get married I wouldn’t have faked it,” Claude said pointedly. 

Darius, who was quieter than his wife and son but no less warm, gave a concerned look. “Khalid, I only want you to be happy. You were so lonely in the palace on your own.” 

Claude raised an eyebrow at this. “You mean you didn’t want me to secure a relationship to focus on having an heir?” 

“Is that what you thought?” Darius gave a booming laugh. “Having an heir is no guarantee they will inherit. You’ve spent too much time in Fódlan, I think.” 

Byleth couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped as Claude rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. 

“I didn’t need to get engaged to solve my problem either,” Byleth added. 

Claude beamed back at her. “Nope, you told the church to shove it all on your own.” 

Tiana raised her glass of wine in a toast. “Here’s to happy accidents, hm?” 

It was difficult for Byleth to contain the happiness she was feeling. Her body was alight with warmth as she laughed with Claude’s parents. She was humbled by the way they welcomed her so easily and made her feel included. She missed her father, hoping he knew somehow that she was happy and safe. 

The four of them proceeded to finish the bottle, still talking long after dessert was finished.

It was late into the evening by the time Byleth and Claude finally retired to their room. Byleth was feeling a pleasant tingling in her body as she pulled off her boots and fell onto the bed. Claude followed quickly behind her, settling down on his side to face her. Byleth’s hand met his in the centre of the bed, reminding her of those early nights of the scheme when she was just learning about him. Warm green eyes stared back at her, no doubt reaching the same conclusion. 

“I want to call you Khalid,” Byleth offered with a quiet voice.

Claude looked surprised for a moment. “I don’t mind if you do, but you don’t have to.” 

“It’s your name,” Byleth pressed. “And there’s no need to hide anymore. Everyone knows you’re Almyran.” 

Khalid smiled back at her. “I do love when you say it.” 

“Khalid.” Byleth’s voice was warm and resonant, causing him to smile wider as he inched closer to her.

“I love you, Byleth,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“I love you too, Khalid,” she smirked back. 

Byleth was too drunk on happiness and wine to consider who moved first but soon Khalid was kissing her in earnest. She returned his affection as she pressed against him, weaving her fingers through his hair. They clumsily tried to remove each other's clothes before dissolving into a fit of laughter at how ridiculous they must look. They stripped off their own clothing before properly sliding into bed together and getting under the covers. 

Byleth settled against Khalid’s bare chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and wondered at her own, pressing a hand against her chest to feel a reassuring beat. She listened to the synchronous beating of their hearts as Khalid’s breathing levelled out and he drifted to sleep. 

Byleth kissed his chest, marvelling at the strange circumstances that brought them to this point. She was looking forward to travelling to Almyra and putting this chapter of her life behind her. Byleth could not believe she might have let him go. Trying to forget Khalid would be like trying to remember someone she had never met. 

*** 

Their friends were upset by the ruse but equally happy things worked out in the end. 

Sylvain maintained that Khalid and Byleth had obvious chemistry from the beginning. Leonie threatened both of them with the consequences of hurting the other before pulling them into a hug. Lindhardt remained moderately disinterested while Lysithea explained to him the merits of such a turn of events. Hilda took credit for the entire thing as though she predicted Byleth and Khalid would fall for one another from the onset of the scheme. 

They asked their friends to be discreet, not wishing to explain to every other alumnus of the Officer’s Academy that the pair deceived everyone—even if they fell in love regardless. 

“I can’t believe you’re moving to Almyra,” Sylvain said as he dropped the last of Byleth’s bags in front of the monastery. “I’m going to miss you.” 

Khalid looked over at Byleth who was smiling at the comment. 

“You could visit, Sylvain,” he offered. “I do have space for guests you know.” 

“I’d like that,” Sylvain grinned back. “I’ll write you from Fhirdiad and maybe we can work something out.” 

“He’s got to reunite with his grumpy duke first,” Byleth giggled, elbowing Sylvain in the side.

Sylvain looked stunned, mouth hanging open. Khalid let out a laugh, nearly as surprised by the joke as Sylvain was. 

“I blame you for that,” Sylvain finally managed, pointing at Khalid. “You’re a bad influence on her.” 

“You have no idea,” Byleth added with a wiggle of her eyebrows, mimicking Sylvain’s own teasing.

Sylvain doubled over with laughter. Khalid blanched, staring at Byleth in shock as heat rose up his neck. He always seemed able to read Byleth’s emotions well but he wasn’t used to them being so readily available for others. Byleth making jokes at his expense was a welcome surprise. 

Byleth gave Khalid a ridiculous wink that made his stomach flutter. He pulled her in close so he could pepper kisses across her face. 

“Everyone can see us Khal,” she chided him, though there wasn’t any bite to it. He relished the nickname she’d started using a few days ago. 

“Let them look.” Khalid kissed her again, dipping their bodies low in a way that pushed the boundaries of propriety. Byleth returned his affection in kind.

“Ugh you two are gross,” Leonie shouted at them, breaking up the unnecessary display of affection. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the sky? You’re losing daylight.”

Khalid reluctantly separated from Byleth so they could continue with their goodbyes. He smirked at Leonie’s shocked face when Byleth pulled her in for a crushing hug. 

Nader and Khalid’s parents had left a few days prior, leaving Byleth and Khalid to travel back to Almyra with a small battalion of soldiers. They’d agreed to escort Hilda home to Goneril territory on the way as a favour to Holst. The Throat was promising to be a perfect way point for travel between Fódlan and Almyra, something Khalid hoped to put further resources into when he returned to the capital. 

Khalid felt nerves and excitement battling inside him at the thought of Byleth moving to Almyra. They’d talked extensively over the past week at the monastery to figure out how they wanted to move forward. Byleth was visiting Almyra to learn more about Khalid’s family and his life outside Fódlan. She would be given a guest suite in the palace for as long as she wanted it, though Khalid made it clear she would have an open door to visit his rooms anytime. He secretly hoped she would decide to stay permanently but was willing to take things one step at a time. 

“Time to go,” Byleth said softly. She stared up at the monastery wistfully and for a moment he wondered if she was reconsidering. 

“You okay?” 

“I think I’ll always have complicated feelings about this place,” Byleth sighed. She gave one last look at the monastery before turning to Khalid with a smile. “I’m ready to go somewhere new.”

“In that case, allow me.” Khalid bowed, extending his hand as though he was asking for a dance. Byleth graciously accepted and he escorted her to where their wyverns were waiting. He helped her get settled on Robin before mounting Chrom. 

They shouted one final goodbye to their friends before ascending into the air and heading east.  
  


***

**ONE YEAR LATER**   
  


Byleth was still getting used to the Almyran humidity. Summer evenings softened in the wake of sunset, leaving pleasant air and bright stars. The other seasons were particularly mild and the architecture of Almyra lent itself to being outdoors as much as possible. Byleth enjoyed the palace’s many balconies and outdoor spaces—especially the gardens. 

The previous year passed quickly as Byleth settled in to life in Almyra. Khalid proved to be a shrewd ruler who was well-liked by his people, due in large part to his kindness. He continually sought ways to improve the lives of Almyrans and to break down the barriers between them. She loved watching him work. She helped Khalid with work so often that he eventually created a diplomatic position with Fódlan for her to serve in. It required frequent communication with Seteth, Dimitri, and many of her former students who were landholders. A few others had come to visit Almyra over the past year, including Leonie, Hilda, and Sylvain.

Byleth had grown into a sense of herself. She was glad to be surrounded by people like Tiana, who shared the best stories, and Nader, who was always happy to spar. Darius would often take tea with her in the garden, the two of them sitting in comfortable silence when he wasn’t sharing stories about Khalid’s childhood antics. 

Byleth felt every bit of it, learning more about her feelings as time went by. She reconciled things about her past too, slowly examining the feelings she’d kept locked away. Though it was difficult and painful it provided her with relief, allowing Byleth to move forward with her life. 

Khalid was always there to listen and provide encouragement, showering her with love and affection. She could hardly believe they’d found one another. She still had a suite in the palace though it largely sat empty; she had moved into Khalid’s suite long ago. Their relationship progressed through the year and soon an engagement followed. 

Byleth took a deep breath as she smoothed out her dress, the shimmering tulle soft to her touch. She smiled at the sight of the green ring on her finger, matching the ring she’d placed on Khalid’s hand a couple of hours ago.

The sound of music and merriment floated out to the balcony as a door opened behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

“There you are. I missed you.” Khalid’s voice was warm as he settled in behind her, leaning his head down to rest on her shoulder. 

“I haven’t been gone long,” Byleth laughed. “What are you going to do when I head to Fhirdiad in a few weeks?” 

“Be terribly lonely,” he said as he kissed her head. 

“I’ll ask Hilda to come babysit you.” 

Byleth turned to face her husband. Khalid was smiling down at her with all the admiration in the world. She could spend an eternity getting lost in those eyes. She stepped up to kiss him, her lips meeting his easily. They were well-practised with this now. 

After a few moments Khalid pulled away, extending his hand. “Dance with me?” 

Byleth accepted with a smile as they settled into a gentle rhythm that involved more swaying than dancing. 

“Do you remember the first time we danced?” she asked, echoing a question he’d asked her so long ago. 

“Of course,” he smiled. “How could I forget, Teach?” 

Byleth groaned at the use of the old nickname which was brought out on very rare occasions. She shook her head and tried not to give Khalid the satisfaction of seeing her smirk. 

“Who would have thought after all that we’d end up here.” Byleth’s voice was quiet as she absently thought about all of the things they had overcome, separately and then together, to make it through. 

“Time’s a funny thing, isn’t it?” Khalid said as he drew her closer to him. 

Byleth stopped swaying as she pulled him in for another kiss. “I wouldn’t change any of it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I can't believe this story is over! I'm a bit sad to let this one go. 
> 
> Thank you so much to absolutely everyone who read this and commented (especially those who were here from the beginning!). I appreciate all of you so much and I hoped that you enjoyed this. Looking forward to hearing all of your thoughts. 
> 
> Who knows, maybe more to come for these two in the future?


End file.
